Star of Hope II: Dies Irae
by Umeko
Summary: Sequel to A New Star The Orden is plotting to kill the Pope? Can Abel, Ion and Ana foil this plot? Will Ion get himself killed thanks to a family feud? Will Ana sucuumb to wiles of the RCO. Will the RCO succeed in their plan?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters. This is the sequel to A New Star.

This is a slight rewrite of my earlier story of the same name. I will be concentrating most of the action in Rome instead of spreading it over Europe and the Near East. Not much screen time for Seth, Asta or the other Methuselahs from Byzantium. There may be appearances by the Albionians on the cards though.

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

"Good morning, Father," the novice nun Anastasia Flamevogel greeted the silver-haired priest as she brought in the tea tray. "Good morning, Count." The pile of blankets on the cot-bed in the corner let out a grunt. Ion had been up the night keeping watch on the city in light of the mysterious disappearances the late Vaclav may have been investigating. Even with the increased Inquisition patrols and back-up form the Papal guard units, no unusual activity had been noticed. After two months of quiet, the patrols were cut back.

It has been three months since Esther's strange, almost fey, grandchild came to Rome with them. She had been easily accepted at the new orphanage Mother Eris set up in the former AX offices. Eris had recruited some future AX operatives in the form of several scrawny orphans. Of course, they were too young for any missions. For now, they were lodged in the dorms and took lessons in the schoolroom. Anastasia proved herself invaluable in the schoolroom as an assistant to Father Peter or Mother Eris.

"Any luck?" Ana asked. Abel shook his head as he stirred his thirteenth cube of sugar into his tea. "No trace of the missing nuns or children was ever found." He pored over a map of Rome and twirled his pen. The red-haired novice peered at the crosses that littered the map. They marked where each nun or child who had disappeared lived.

"Have you written to Cecil or your grandmother?" Abel attempted to change the topic.

"I have replied to Cecil's last letter. Grandmother is too ill to write recently. The incident three months ago in Albion took out a lot of her. Cecil writes that she is fading fast."

"Do you wish to return to Albion?"

"No, I will not be going back to Londinium. I don't want to go back to watch Grandma… die. I don't like the way Cecil's letters are written. They sound so… distant." _Was it just him or was there a tinge of regret in the former princess' voice. _"Maybe Uncle Virgil screened them. He is that meddlesome," she shrugged and twisted the end of her plait. Is it just me or is there a concentration of cases about St Helen's?" Anastasia steered the conversation back to the disappearances.

"Not really…" The cases were scattered throughout a large district populated by several churches and chapels dedicated to various saints. "The Church of St Helen." Abel frowned as he contemplated the map. Until recently, their work had taken Ion and him away for months on end. He had not exactly been in touch with the happenings in Rome.

"Three from St Mary's Convent, two from Our Lady of Peace, one each from Mary of Magda's and the Holy Infant…" he rattled off the list he had memorized by now.

"Most of those institutions attend mass at St Helen's," Anastasia concluded. "I have been speaking with the sisters and children from them."

"Ana, please take care. We do not know whether your resistance to UV light is temporary…" It would be deadly if Anastasia's Methuselah heritage betrayed her in the sun. Abel forced the terrible image of Esther's grandchild going up in smoke under a noonday sun away from his mind.

"I will stay in the shade," she smiled sweetly. "Another bit of information… The priest at St Helen's is new. The last priest left on a retreat to Bavaria, about three months ago."

"Father Ivan?" Abel had heard of the priest from his fellow AX members, especially Vaclav. Father Ivan was a charismatic preacher with looks that sent many a young nun's heart a-flutter. Ana nodded. "I understand that he is very popular. Friendly, charming, a good listener… I believe many sisters bear a little torch for him," Ana added. Their newest team member had been working hard for her keep. "I would be interested to see this Father Ivan. Excuse me. I must go help Thomas with breakfast for the little ones, since Mother Eris is taking a trip to Albion. Would you be joining us for the field trip to the Vatican Museum, Father?"

"Eris is going to Albion?" Ion yawned as he stuck his head out of his blankets. Ana nodded. "She is taking Faith of the healing hands to St Bartholomew's to see if she could be of any help to Father Hugue." Abel nodded sagely. Faith was a gem. Eris found the sickly orphan in a children's home. That little one was blessed with an uncanny ability to heal. Over the past month, she has already proved her powers with the various injuries among her fellow orphans and even Father William to some extent.

"Faith's fragile. Mother Eris will have her hands full, even with Tres to help her," Abel observed. They were interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door, screams and a series of ear-burning curses from Thomas.

"Father Abel! Lil set fire to her sheets last night, the twins are levitating the cutlery and Teensy is playing the pied piper with the rats of Rome! Father Peter and Sister Carmen are off to see Father William so I need help here!"

"Let me take care of that. Excuse me," Abel wiped his mouth with his napkin and left the room. The two Methuselahs glanced at each other.

"Ana, did you sleep with the light on again?" Ion asked warily. Ana nodded. "Did those shadows…"

"No sight of them." Ion let out a sigh of relief. Esther had mentioned the previous attack by those mysterious shadows. A fear of the dark is no way for a Methuselah to live, even if Anastasia had a legitimate reason for it. He hoped Ana would overcome her fear eventually. "I am still afraid of the dark."

"Ana, if you are scared, I could hold your hand," Ion ventured.

"Thank you, Count. But you are not Uncle Cecil…" Ana replied enigmatically. "Trust me not, Count. I'm not Grandmother." Her eyes took on an icy blue cast.

* * *

"Poor, poor child," Cardinal Benedictia of the diplomatic corps murmured as she stood on the Rome train station platform. She was dressed in plainclothes. She dabbed at her eye with her lacy handkerchief. The 'poor child' was heavily bandaged and veiled because of her injuries from the fire that had claimed the lives of her foster family. She shied behind her companion. Benedictia sighed. _How she wished it were not so and she could look into the eyes of the baby she had left behind so many years ago. _"Father Ivan, I appreciate your kindness…" 

"It was my duty, your Eminence," Ivan bowed. "Sister Hilda should see the young lady to get some rest." With aforced smile, the sister bobbed a curtsy and hurried her charge into a waiting automobile.

_Rome._ He had been assigned to Rome, with out of all people, Ivan Iscariot Flamevogel and that little blond bitch who had fed on him.

* * *

"I know it is hard, but bear with it. You make a lovely nun," his mentor had smirked when they presented him with his cover of 'Sister Hilda'. 

"Take care of Lorelei or else," the new Flamberg warned him. Under the voluminous veils and billowy robes she favoured, the Countess Scheherazade was a very well-proportioned female with a dusky complexion and raven tresses. Isaak appeared a tad awkward around her, a rare thing for the Panzer Magier. Isaak has been around loads of beautiful women in his time, but as far as Dietrich knew, none of them had discomfited him so much.

"Why me?" Dietrich winced when Isaak gripped his arm tightly. "Because Cain says so. He feels no pressing need to rectify the issue of your existence so far. Would you like to have your innards splattered over the walls?" _Point taken. _

Send Flamberg aka the Countess to Albion to work on sowing discord in the Westminster Parliament, send a little she-vampire to Rome to kill the Pope. How typical of their Master. Who suggested these little deceptions by any chance? Provoke the Terrans sufficiently and they will declare war on the Empire. Isaak gets stuck nursing Master Cain's injuries back in Berlin, for now.

_Surely they must have some folks working in the Empire? _The Empire was always on the verge of rebellion. Discontented nobles like the late Barvon abound, ripe for the picking. Ditto for discontented Terrans. There were rumours that the Head of the Secret Service are on her last legs after surviving an assassination attempt. How on earth did Scheherazade bungle that assassination? He had glimpsed a picture of Mirka Fortuna once. A willowy female, she was already old for a Methuselah.

The plot to kill the Pope was surprisingly complex. If it worked, AX and her allies would be disgraced, the Church and west Europe thrown into chaos. Credit went to their erstwhile Father Ivan and the Pilot.

"There was a sister who had a love child," Scheherazade smiled when she related the tale. "She left her child with a good family in a little village while she went on to become cardinal. Sadly, a fire swept through their home, killing all in the family save the cardinal's daughter … What should a neglectful mother do? Seek out her child to make amends?"

It was a stroke of good fortunate the Cardinal Benedictia had entrusted that particular task to Father Ivan aka the Orden's Shadowmaster. The Orden was not one to turn up an opportunity to strike at the heart of the Church.

Father Ivan located the cardinal's daughter in a Bavarian orphanage and promptly sent her to the loving embrace of her foster family with his shadows. Dietrich had witnessed it. Cain had seen fit to assign him and his Auto-Jaggers to Bavaria to back up Ivan. One minute the child was curled up in her cot, a little girl about ten with blond curls and rosy cheeks. There was no struggle, no cries. The shadows simply engulfed the child. When they dispersed, they only left behind an empty cot. Ivan then left the dirty work of silencing the other twenty orphans and their five nun caretakers to him and his Auto-Jaggers.

Dietrich had decided back then that he hated the Flamevogel twins. The only consolation was that Ivan's twin, Dimitri, would never bother him again. Too bad he left behind a little red-haired tea-poisoning vampire…

* * *

"I'm hot…" Lorelei whined softly. "Take off your veil and fry," Dietrich whispered. He found that girl annoying. 

"You're mean." Lorelei kicked Dietrich's skirts. "Fraulein Lorelei, don't play with your food," Ivan sneered as he took the wheel and started driving towards the guest house the cardinal had prepared for her daughter.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Yes, the sequel's up. Hopefully, it will be more edgy. Dies Irae means Day of Wrath in Latin, which coincidentally has been the language of the Catholic Church for more than a millennium. They still use it in today's Vatican although the Mass are conducted in English or the local language. In the Vatican City, most folks use Italian. In the Trinity Blood universe, it appears that the lingua vernacular in the Vatican appears to be Latin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters. This is the sequel to A New Star.

What? No flames for putting Dietrich in a nun's habit? Oh my goodness. I guess he can stay in that habit for a while. Or maybe he can switch to a French maid uniform for his next mission (snicker). I have re-written this chapter too.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Time for a feeding," Ivan reminded when he had seen them to their rooms. "Newly-turned vampires require fresh blood. She likes yours," the Shadowmaster chuckled and folded his arms. There was no point fighting it as his previous attempts had proven. His wrists were still bruised from the last attempt. Either his powers had not recovered fully, or Ivan was far more powerful Isaak had been. Or Isaak had never used the full extent of his powers against Dietrich before. Dietrich doffed the wimple that was part of his disguise and leaned back against the couch, undoing the collar of the habit as he did so. Lorelei clambered onto his lap and sank her little fangs into his neck.

Dietrich stared at his reflection in the wall mirror, trying to ignore the sensation of his blood being drained. His appearance had not changed one bit_. Had he died and been brought back from the dead by the enigmatic Pilot, Fritzroy von Mansfield? _Yet he was for all appearances, a Terran. He had noticed many things after his return to the Orden after an absence of fifty years. Maybe if he had not been so arrogant in the past, he would have noticed the signs. Mein Herr was their leader, a megalomaniac obsessed with a certain unfathomable vision and his priest brother. He was some powerful freak who was neither Terran nor Methuselah.

Master Cain and Isaak dominated the Orden back then, by choice or by design. He had always accepted that Isaak was second-in-command after Cain. The Pilot was secretive, a dark horse. Now he realized his mentor deferred to the Pilot as Dietrich would to Isaak. _Had the Pilot been Isaak's mentor once? Was Ivan the Pilot's protégé as well? Likewise for Dimitri and Lorelei?_ The Countess Scheherazade was her own woman, convinced the Empire had killed her father and her fiancé, Radu Barvon. Dietrich was not going to relieve her of her misconceptions, especially after seeing her use her flaming Sword of Eden on a fellow member who had insulted her father. It was getting difficult to focus. With a groan he slumped over the couch.

"Enough, Lorelei. Now run along for your bath."

Sated, the girl got off the semi-conscious Terran and ran off. The sound of running water and singing came from the bathroom. Dietrich was aware of a swish of dark priest's robes at the edge of his dim vision. "Good boy." Cold fingers ruffled his hair. Then he blacked out completely.

"Ivan! You promised to take care of him!" Isaak's voice buzzed as his hologram flickered into sight in the room. Ivan smiled coldly and sat next to the unconscious Terran. "He's still alive, Panzermagier. Nice of you to call. I presume Mein Herr coping well in your care?" He touched his finger to the bleeding puncture marks and then touched it to his tongue, relishing the glare Isaak shot him. "Hm, sweet…"

"Ivan… Don't dare you…"

"Jealous? What will it be? Fight me, blow our cover? I suppose the Inquisition will be very interested in what a Terran like him is doing with us… Tsk, I don't suppose we could classify him as Terran after Grandpa Fritz's little experiment…" Ivan taunted as he stroked Dietrich's hair almost tenderly. "How well do you suppose he can bear up under torture? I believe his screams will be very musical…"

"At least Lorelei's getting fed," the Countess' image joined Isaak's. She gave Ivan a warm smile. "Is the Pilot with you? I would like some advice on dressing for Albionian high society." Both Ivan and Isaak shook their heads.

"I suppose this blue silk gown will have to do then. I must get going. I am to attend an art exhibition at the invitation of the Count of Manchester." Scheherazade, Countess of Samaria and the Orden's Sword of Flame, faded out of sight.

"Albionians are so trusting," Ivan spoke sardonically. "Isaak, are you fantasizing about having _her_ in your bed? Or are you really interested in young boys only?" Isaak did not bother replying to the barb but flickered out of sight, ending the transmission.

* * *

A few streets away at the new St Francis' Children's Home, formerly known as the AX's headquarters, two Methuselahs sweat-dropped as they took in the sight of Father Abel hopelessly tied to a chair in the kitchen. Fellow AX member Thomas O'Cleary was letting loose a string of expletives as he tried to restrain a pair of rambunctious youngsters. "I tried to help," Abel whined pathetically. Mother Eris would probably have a fit when she sees the mess in kitchen. Rats scurried throughout the building, urged on by a little girl with a flute. Anastasia took a deep breath as one enterprising rodent leapt into the jam.

"There will be no more walks in the park, theatre shows or stories of the Saints unless this mess is tidied up," Anastasia announced. "Right, Father Abel?" The orphans froze in their tracks. Ana may only be thirteen, a child herself, but the children obeyed her. "Untie Father Abel. Teensy, send your rats back where they came from. Brother Thomas, release the twins so they can sweep up the broken plates…"

Ion smiled. Esther had used the same tone when she wanted Abel to listen to her. Grumbling, the teenaged Thomas released the twins after smacking them each once on the bottom. Stubborn to a fault, Thomas rarely listened to anyone, except Mother Eris.

"I burnt the sheets again," a forlorn little girl wailed.

"There, there… it was an accident, wasn't it? Go wash your face, Lil. We'll get some new sheets for your bed," Anastasia patted Lil on the head.

"Count, I got what you requested," Thomas slipped Ion the small vial of blood quietly in the parlour. "I thought you could do with blood pellets."

"It's for Anastasia. Newly-turned Methuselahs need fresh blood," Ion explained. He didn't agree with the Albionian practice of restricting newly-turned Methuselahs to blood pellets. A nagging suspicion came over him. "Did you break into the hospital blood store this time?"

"No, Count. Cross me heart," Thomas rolled up his sleeve to reveal the bandage around his wrist. Ion raised an eyebrow. "And I swear I didn't touch any alcohol or such before bleeding myself."

"Thanks, Thomas." Ion pocketed the vial. He would feed it to Ana later and tell her it was from the blood pellets. Ana had confided that the idea of drinking fresh blood did not agree with her sensibilities.

* * *

Tres' sensors registered several Methuselah signatures as they drove through Londinium, a sign of the times. Of course, at this hour, they were indoors and out of the sun. Thanks to Queen Esther's efforts, the city had made changes to allow their Methuselah citizens to step out of the Ghetto. UV-filtered windows for automobiles and carriages were all the rage. Some establishments sported sheltered garages for their Methuselah patrons to board or disembark from their vehicles in the daytime.

Mother Eris was quiet in the back seat with her little charge asleep on her lap. Benedictia had almost insisted she take Faith over to Albion. _Wouldn't it be easier to invite a doctor from Albion to treat her in Rome?_ Londinium weather could be harsh at times. Eris sensed Benedictia was hiding something from her. Faith's cough had worsened on the airship journey. Weak lungs, the doctor back in Rome had said. On the bright side, Father William's episodes of confusion are much less frequent now after Faith's visits. Maybe her powers could heal Father Hugue too.

"Methuselah. Twenty feet, approaching. Four entities." A carriage bearing the House of Manchester coat of arms trundled past. Through the UV-glass, Eris recognized Count Vigil, his sister and his nephew, Sir Cecil. The young knight had a scowl on his handsome face and Eris sensed he was jealous of the carriage's last occupant, a dark complexioned lady Eris had never seen before… She gasped as an intense emotion hit her.

"Stop the car!" Tres brought the rental car to a screeching halt. Eris disembarked shakily and retched into the gutter. It was the same as back in St Peter's Square where Vaclav was killed. _Rosenkruez?_ The dark stranger with the Walshes was emitting a cold, calculated hatred. "Status report?" Tres droned. "Mother Eris?" Faith squeaked in wide-eyed fear as she hurried to place her healing hands on the abbess. Eris waved aside her efforts gently.

"I'm fine, just car-sick…" Eris lied. "Let's get to the doctor's and get Faith all well…" _Lies, intrigue and betrayal. _Truth be known, she was getting fairly sick of it as well. It was naïve to think Albion would be any different from Rome. Behind the cold hatred, she had also sensed a deep, all-consuming sorrow. "God forgive us all, and deliver us from evil."

Tres looked quizzically at the pale abbess and the disappearing carriage. "Request course of action. Surveillance of target?" Eris shook her head. The Count might not appreciate a somewhat trigger-happy android following his kin around. The hatred she had sensed did not appear to be targeted at the Walshes. If anything should happen, they would be capable of handling it. "Proceed as planned to the inn, Brother Tres."

"Affirmative."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Please review. Anyone who has been following this fic might have noticed the changes. This is mainly the Rome chapter. I am probably going to update my profile with short bios of my OCs for my Trinity Blood fics, like I have done for previous OCs in other fanfics. Wait for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Rewrites in this chapter too. Ion is feeling a little homesick?

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The afternoon sun shone in through the UV-filtered glass windows of the large ballroom that now served as the gymnasium of the St Francis Children's Home. Anastasia Flamevogel and Father Abel watched from behind a heavy safety screen as Ion Fortuna and Thomas O'Cleary sparred. Father Peter was teaching the children arithmetic in the other wing so the sound of steel ringing off steel and war cries did not bother the children's lessons. Carmen flickered into sight and hurriedly ducked instinctively as a stray dagger flew her way.

"Thomas O'Cleary! Are you intending to murder me?" Carmen shrieked. Both Methuselah and Terran halted their battle. Wearing an innocent look on his young face, Thomas strolled up to Carmen and stuck a hand through her hologram, drawing muffled laughter from the spectators. "No harm done to nobody, Miss Carmen," Thomas remarked in a tone oddly reminiscent of Carmen's late father, Leon. He wiggled his fingers, which stuck out from Carmen's back, for good measure.

Ion hurriedly clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from erupting into peals of laughter. Carmen's face was a livid red and she clearly didn't appreciate the joke. "Thomas, wait till I get my hands on you…" Carmen growled. The teenager only laughed and scampered to retrieve his dagger from the far wall. Carmen gave a small wicked smile as he did so. Thomas let out a gasp of pain when he touched the hilt of the dagger.

"Argh! That bloody hurts!" Thomas unleashed a string of curses that would have made the most seasoned sailor blush. Ion clapped his hands over Ana's innocent ears. "It is called static electricity, Thomas. Remember that the next time you try to be funny about holograms. Father William rigged that system up for me this morning."

"William is well enough to leave the nursing home? When will he be back?" Abel asked eagerly. Carmen shook her head. "Father William is recovering, thanks to Faith's healing power. But she can't do much about ailments related to old age. Father William is an old man. He has a bad leg, stiff joints and a propensity for strolling down memory lane. He agrees that he would have difficulties negotiating the stairs in this old building. He talks a good deal about Sister Kate, my father, Cardinal Caterina and the old days… Besides, if he makes a miraculous recovery, the Inquisition may come down on Mother Eris and Faith for witchcraft. He has grown fond of the old nursing home. Peace and quiet… he hopes he will be allowed to set up a workshop in the home in a month or so."

_Oh dear, there goes the peace and quiet in the nursing home… _Abel winced at the memory of the numerous explosions that were part and parcel of the Professor's workshop. Maybe he should pay the Professor a visit. His thoughts were interrupted by the door bell.

"Petros? What brings you here?" The former captain of the Inquisition only grunted in reply to Abel's greeting. Close behind him was Paula. The pair were almost inseparable as they aged. Abel noted that Paula appeared frailer than he had recalled and there was a definite stiffness in Petros' movement.

"Just as I thought. You haven't returned with those envoys to Byzantium," Petros was not too surprised when he saw Ion coming down the stairs with Thomas. "I guess one of you two was jumping about the roofs last night."

"Both, actually. The old Count's watching out for those missing nuns and I was just out for the fresh air," Thomas chirped. Petros was about to add something when both he and Paula let out a gasp of surprise. The novice Anastasia had entered the room.

"This is…" Petros found himself speechless. The resemblance to Sister Esther was uncanny. "Is she related to Esther?" Paula blurted out. Abel sighed and rolled his eyes upwards in surrender. It was possible for them to keep Anastasia's parentage from those who are unfamiliar with Sister Esther the young nun in AX, but not from Petros and Paula, who have had a passing acquaintance, well, more than a passing acquaintance with Esther, in Cartago.

"Anastasia Flamevogel, illegitimate granddaughter of her Majesty Queen Esther of Albion," Anastasia replied with a smile and dropped a curtsy. "Though I would appreciate it if we keep my heritage secret. My uncles are still very embarrassed about my mother's dalliance with a clerk."

"Is it just me or has it been traditional in Albionian royalty to foist their offspring on the Church?" Petros retorted.

"Not that I am aware of, Brother. However, I find Rome to my liking, sunnier than poor Albion."

Petros broke into a chuckle. Ion gasped. Anastasia's open manner had won over the normally stony Petros. Then she went straight into the main reason behind Petros' visit. "May I ask what brings you here? I hope you aren't going to arrest any of the kids for mischief in the museum."

"No. It is a more serious matter I wish to discuss with Father Abel. Would you please?"

"This way, please," Ana ushered their guests to what was once Cardinal Caterina's tea room and left them alone with Abel.

* * *

"The Cardinals again?" Abel groaned. Anytime Petros found it necessary to look him or Mother Eris up, it always has to do with the Pope having a near breakdown thanks to getting caught between Cardinal Avignon and Cardinals Niall and Benedictia. Petros nodded his head. "Unfortunately, yes. Cardinal Benedictia's acting a bit strange recently. Even her closest ally Cardinal Niall is in the dark. Cardinal Avignon is stirring up some fairly nasty rumours about the Duchess of Florence having an illegitimate child with Niall and Niall is wondering if it will be against the Lord's teachings to silence him for good." _At least they left His Sanctity in peace. _

"No smoke without a fire," Paula continued. "This morning, the Duchess Benedictia di Borgia was seen in the company of an unknown child, a nun and a priest we have identified as Father Ivan. She was in plainclothes. Most unusual given her liking for grand entrances." Abel nodded in agreement. Like her predecessor Cardinal Caterina, one found it difficult to ignore Benedictia when she enters a room. Striking blond hair, blue eyes and an aura that literally screamed: _See me! Notice me!_ If Caterina had set precedence for female cardinals to be eye-catching, Benedictia lived up to the tradition.

"The Pope has recommended that a neutral party, namely the Papal Guard, find proof to clear the air before things really get out of hand." The Papal Guard had taken on the responsibility of safeguarding the Holy City and the Pope after Cardinal Avignon's Inquisition had proven ineffective without their former captain's leadership. "Problem is, the Duchess' little indiscretion may have returned to roost. This child and her chaperon were given lodging at one of the Cardinal's guesthouses as the orphaned daughter of a distant relative. There has to be a way we can solve this problem without resorting to Niall's suggestion."

Abel frowned. If allegations of Benedictia having a child out of wedlock were true, the diplomatic corps will suffer for it. She may even be asked to leave her post and Avignon would appoint one of his cronies to the diplomatic office. "What was Niall's suggestion?"

"We knock Avignon out cold, tie him to a millstone and drop him in the Tiber," Paula replied without batting an eyelid. "It does have its merits but…"

* * *

"Move over," Ana hissed softly and elbowed Thomas slightly in the ribs. She pressed the drinking glass against the wall of the adjoining study and listened. "I don't think Petros is onto you for the prank you pulled on Avignon yet," Ana stressed. The words Father Ivan had attracted her attention. She was no stranger to eavesdropping, having honed her skills on various discussions of her kin, especially those concerning her. This building was unlike Buckingham with the sprawling hidden passages and peepholes, so she had to improvise with Thomas' help.

"You know, it is considered unbecoming for a noble to be eavesdropping." Ion watched the eavesdropping pair with a detached amusement. He had eavesdropped on his grandmother once, a long time ago. She caught him at it and he never tried again. "You mean it is unbecoming for a noble to be caught eavesdropping," Anastasia replied. "The Fortunas are well-known for being involved in espionage in the Empire and beyond."

Ion sighed. Espionage was never his strong suit. He knew that ever since the afternoon he returned from the Academy and found a little girl eavesdropping outside Grandmother's study.

_The newly-turned Ion Fortuna sprinted up the spiral staircase. "Grandmother, I'm home!" he shouted as he ran. He could hear her voice. She had a visitor in her study. Ion knew his grandmother often discussed important state matters in her study so he stopped in front of the heavy oak doors, only to find he was not alone. There was a little girl there, her hair braided into numerous plaits. She was on her knees, her hands and ear pressed against the oaken door. _

"_Who are you?" he demanded of the stranger._

"_Shush! I can't hear them…" _

_Curious, Ion leaned against the heavy wood next to her. He could make out a few snatches of the conversation, not enough to understand what it was about, but enough to know Grandmother was furious. He was so engrossed that he failed to hear them approaching the door. The next thing he knew, he was on his face on the carpet with Grandmother and her visitor standing over him. The mysterious girl had gone. Shamefacedly, he ran for his room without a word. _

Funny how these memories of Byzantium came to him. Ion mused with an acute pang of homesickness.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Paula and Petros dropping by for an afternoon chat with Abel? I definitely need to put in more action.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

A rewrite. I am keeping the Queen of Albion, invalid as she is, around.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"Maybe we can suggest other arrangements for the child," Abel ventured. "Send the child to an orphanage? Maybe we can put her up here?"

"The Duchess, bless her, will be feeling very strong maternal instincts given the tragedy that had befallen the child. The girl's foster family was killed in a house fire, so I picked up from the sisters who prepared the rooms. The child was disfigured in the face and is heavily veiled. However, her chaperon turned away the doctor the Duchess sent, claiming strangers distress the child," Paula summed up.

"The only thing we can prove is that Cardinal Niall is definitely not the child's father. I would say she was born about ten to twelve years back, during the Duchess' temporary exile in Austria. During this time, Cardinal Niall was still in Ireland as a bishop. Their paths did not cross until a few years back when Benedictia made her first diplomatic visit to Albion and Ireland. This will still damage the Duchess' name… Let's go with the millstone suggestion," Petros smiled wryly.

A crash sounded from the next room, causing Abel and his visitors to leap to their feet. They hurried over to find…

"Break it up!" Ion cried out in alarm as the combatants knocked over a Chinese vase that was a gift to the late Cardinal Caterina from the Cathay diplomat. The vase shattered into numerous pieces with an ear-splitting crash.

"Get off me!" Thomas shouted and kicked. Anastasia had him in a chokehold. "Return me my pendant!" The former thief had succumbed to the temptation of her unusual pendant. The Star's crystals winked and twinkled in Thomas' hands as he stubbornly refused to relinquish his prize. Before Ion could intervene, Anastasia kneed Thomas in the groin. The men winced. _That has to hurt._ Thomas crashed to the carpet, clutching his groin and whining from the pain. The Star dropped onto the carpet and Ana deftly retrieved it, ignoring the shards of broken china that cut into her hand.

"I was going to return to you after I have looked…" Thomas gasped. "Besides, real nuns never wear any fancy jewellery besides their crosses."

"And real student priests don't take little girls' late daddies' keepsakes from them!" Ana retorted. "Feisty child, isn't she?" Sister Paula nodded in approval. Father Abel paled as he saw the wounds in Ana's hand knit and healed almost immediately. He glanced in Petros' direction, hoping he hadn't noticed. Petros' face was grim, so was Paula's.

"Thou shalt not steal, Thomas. When will you ever learn?" Father Peter entered the room and immediately exclaimed at the damage done to the priceless vase.

"Sorry, Father." Thomas struggled to his feet, helped by Ion.

"Look on the bright side, Peter. You can test your new invisible glue on it," Carmen flickered into sight. "If Tom didn't break it, I suppose one of the children would have sooner or later." She then launched into a tirade on absent-minded inventors who promised to have all the fragile valuables stored in the attic but never got round to doing so. Peter broke in with protests at appropriate points.

Petros plucked at Abel's sleeve. "I need a word with you regarding that child, Anastasia," he whispered. "We both saw what happened just now. Please tell me she is Terran."

"Sorry, Brother. Her mother was Terran, but her father was Methuselah. However, she does not display all the requisite characteristics of the race. Relax, we have her on blood pills like Ion…" Abel tried to offer him a reassuring smile. At his words, Petros went paler still. He reached out a hand to Paula. "Sister, I think it is time for my heart pills…" Seventy going on eighty, Petros felt he was getting way too old for such shocks.

* * *

A few minutes later…

"You brought a vampire into the Vatican?" Petros bellowed in the safety of the vast catacombs. Paula had her ears covered with her hands. "Your heart, captain," she coaxed.

"No need to get so worked up, Brother," Abel winced at the assault on his hearing. "Calm down and I am sure we can work things out."

"_Be calm?_ Abel Nightroad, if I were younger by a decade, I would have kicked you out of the city. First, the Count of Memphis, now a novice nun who happens to be a vampire! Do you have any idea how many times you and your AX troublemakers have locked up somewhere for the well-being of Rome!" Petros ranted. "And I thought the Duchess of Florence's past was the worse thing that can befall us! I should have taken my chance to retire last year… Oh no, will she go up in smoke when exposed to the sun?"

"That was one of the characteristics she does not display," Abel squeaked. "She has no reaction to sunlight like a Methuselah should."

"What did you say?" Paula gasped. "Her wounds healed almost immediately. Does she have any reaction to the holy water?" Everyone knew the holy water in Rome was laced with silver ions from the numerous silver coins the faithful tossed into the fountains. Abel thought hard. He had never thought to note that. Unlike Ion, who was raised in the Empire, Anastasia was brought up in Albion. Most of the Albionians, including the Ghetto dwellers, are Catholics. And Anastasia attended Mass.

He recalled an image of Anastasia last Sunday, dipping her finger into the holy water pool at the church door to make the sign of the cross. He cursed himself for his oversight. She could have been made seriously ill by that silver-laced water. But she had not been ill. _Could it be?_

"I think she may have some resistance to Rome's holy water as well…"

"I need to sit down…" Petros murmured and sat down on the nearest stone bench in the crypt. Mutely, Paula sat down next to him. "Does Tres recognize her as Methuselah?"

"No," Abel frowned. He had never really noticed it in his eagerness to help Anastasia settle into Rome. Tres did not recognize Ana as Methuselah, _or did he?_ He never asked and Tres never mentioned it. Too bad Tres was away in Albion.

* * *

Her Majesty was peevish and distracted. Three o'clock. And Sir Virgil was nowhere in sight. She beckoned to Lady Vanessa, who had been reading to her from a volume. Her Majesty's eyesight has been failing over the past week. Still, Esther was keen to hear the end of the novel she had been reading. "Where's Virgil? This is unlike him," the ailing monarch asked. Virgil never missed the weekly audience with her Majesty.

"He's sick," Vanessa replied without missing a beat.

"Sick?" This was unlike Virgil. Methuselah's immunity protected them from most illnesses.

"Yes, he's lovesick over some Countess from Samaria," Vanessa replied in annoyance. "He might have taken her to the charity art exhibition in the Ghetto and forgot the time. It's scaring me the way he's acting like a schoolboy with an infatuation. He has all but forgotten his duties."

Esther laughed at the childish edge in Vanessa's voice. "It is good for Virgil to find love after he has lost his wife so long ago… Will you be able to provide me with a report on the Ghetto's production and recovery in Virgil's place?" Vanessa nodded.

"Cecil and I have been running the Ghetto since she cast her little love-spell on my poor brother. Cecil can keep an eye on him on their diplomatic jaunts. The Ghetto's production is back to normal. And we have reconstruction on track."

"That's good," Esther murmured. "What is this countess like? A cup of tea, please, with two cubes of sugar…Thank you." Esther took the teacup from the Methuselah noblewoman.

"We met her once at the charity auction. She is a good-looking lady, dark-complexioned, dark-haired, like folks from the east Europe or the Empire. Virgil met her at the piano recital a couple weeks back. She has some foreign name, Scheherazade or something. Unfortunately, my son took an instant dislike to her." Vanessa frowned. The relationship between her relatives had deteriorated alarmingly recently. She didn't want to trouble her queen with such petty issues, even if Cecil and Virgil were not on talking terms.

"Now that is unexpected. I never thought Cecil would feel that way. My son, Crown Prince Gilbert, mentioned Westminster is a tad concerned about Sir Virgil's relationship with a certain woman," Esther murmured. "The way they were carrying on, one would think Virgil had proposed marriage to a barmaid! Those peers can't think of anything but politics. They say love is blind, very blind…" Most Continental Methuselah bear some form of minor title. The fact that Virgil's dating a minor countess from the Continent did not go well with the Albionian ministers. They probably hoped he would remarry some continental duchess or upper-class Ghetto dweller instead.

"Vanessa, I feel a little drowsy… Would you please ring for Wendy on the way out?" Esther murmured. Even a short chat exhausted her now. Still, she would hold out until the end, as long as her people needed her guidance.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

I just can't let the former Inquisition captain and his lieutenant get any peace, can I? Can anyone picture Count Virgil in love? He is so serious in the anime.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Methuselah, five signals," Tres intoned as he drove through the streets. Hugue stifled a grunt of annoyance at the seemingly ungodly number of Methuelahs strolling in the streets. Old prejudices die hard. He sat in the passenger seat while Mother Eris and Sister Anais took the back seat. Little Faith had fallen asleep on Eris' lap and the abbess stroked Faith's hair absently. Faith's ailment was chronic. The doctors had informed them regretfully after a morning of medical tests with more expected over the week. However, Faith had summoned up enough strength to heal Father Hugue that afternoon. The rental car spluttered ominously. "Oh dear," Anais murmured before the automobile died. "Request next course of action," Tres queried.

"Try to get this junk-car running, gentlemen. That includes you, dearest brother," Anais nudged her brother. Hugue protested but Anais dealt him an adamant kick to the rear of his seat. Hugue muttered something under his breath before disembarking. Thanks to Faith's abilities, he had recovered sufficiently to get about with the help of a walking stick. Soon he and Tres were grimy from fiddling with the engine.

"Need some help, Sisters?" Cecil Walsh stopped by the broken-down car. "Negative," Tres drew his pistols. "Wanted for harming servants of the Church…" Cecil groaned and pushed aside the pistol pushing against his chest with his left hand even as his right hand blocked Hugue's walking staff with his rapier. "I thought I left that behind in Rome. It was a misunderstanding with Cardinal Avignon's men."

"Leave him be, Tres," Eris said. The android holstered his guns. "What brings you out, sonny?" Anais asked. Cecil was about to reply when he spotted his uncle and his date. Both nuns sensed the surge of emotion that ran through the knight. "Jealous?" Anais asked gently. She had been acquainted with the Walshes for most of her life due to their membership in the White Rose Society. "I don't trust that woman."

"Isn't it good for your uncle to find love again?" Anais coaxed. "Not if she is not what she claims to be…" Cecil growled, watching as his uncle saw his date to the doorstep of her townhouse. He had thought so until he shook her hand. She was a swordswoman. No doubt about it. Yet she had professed no knowledge of swordsmanship. _If Uncle had not been so infatuated…_ An idea occurred to him. _Reckless, but if he could…_

"Don't even try," Eris caught on to Cecil's somewhat-dishonourable idea. "She may have a reason to hide her past. Just because she has some training in swordsmanship she doesn't want the Count to know may not mean anything. Also, I don't think wantonly attacking a lady in her home is going to get you into Virgil's good books."

"New Caledonia, Cecil. Isn't that diplomatic post still available? It may be just that she's afraid Sir Virgil may feel a tad threatened if she pips him at swordsmanship," Sister Anais interjected, "Like how Hugue here shelved his pistol for a sword after I pipped him on the de Watteau firing range." Hugue, who was bent over the engine, banged his head against the open hood and grunted. "I thought we agreed not to mention that…"

"Request damage report, Father Hugue," Tres droned. He was slightly bewildered by the conversation between the Albion knight and the sisters. _Love and jealousy did not mean anything to a machine, should they? _

"Well, you had to tell Father Otis about me slipping him his meds in his oatmeal. You know how hard it is to get him to take his pills. Poor bloke thinks it's heresy to take medication," Anais retorted. "Cecil, I know you're a good lad. So do yourself a favour by staying out of your uncle's personal matters…"

* * *

Cardinal Benedictia creased her brow as her long estranged daughter ducked behind Sister Hilda. The child had been shy and silent throughout her visit. She wore long sleeves and gloves, topped by a gauzy veil that covered her little head. "I was hoping… I could get to know her," she whispered regretfully to Father Ivan, who sipped idly at his tea.

"Such things take time, Duchess. Little Lorelei is very much injured by the fire, both physically and emotionally…" Dietrich lied. "Lorelei? I thought they would have chosen a more Christian name for her," the Duchess of Florence murmured. She did not notice the glare Father Ivan shot at Sister Hilda. "Lorelei is her pet name. Your little Annamarie is a very good singer," Father Ivan smiled, using the birth name of Benedictia's daughter. _Touché, Di. Try blowing our cover and I will make sure you really regret it_, he walked up behind the brown-haired 'nun' and patted him hard on the shoulder. Dietrich bit his lower lip to keep from crying out from the pain of Ivan's claws stabbing into his flesh through the fabric.

"As was her father," Benedictia had a distant look in her eyes as she recalled that long ago summer that resulted in her bearing little Annamarie. "Lorelei, will you sing for me someday?" The little girl bobbed her veiled head shyly as the kindly priest took her by the hand. "Sister, I think it is her bedtime."

"Wait!" The cardinal made to protest but her eyes met Ivan's icy-blue ones. A chill ran through her as she fancied she saw something sinister in those eyes. Then the moment passed. When he spoke, there was no threat in his voice. "It is not wise of Your Eminence to visit us so late, especially since our cardinals have this place watched…" he pulled aside the curtain to reveal an Inquisition patrol unit marching by. "The nerve of that Avignon!" Cardinal Benedictia bit back a curse. Hilda was ushering Lorelei upstairs to the bedrooms.

* * *

Having tucked Lorelei in for the night, Dietrich peeked out the window to see Ivan escorting the Cardinal home. The Pope will be presiding over Mass on the Feast day of St Therese. The pope will not be leaving his private residence until then. It was their bad luck the Pope had chosen to go into seclusion after some disastrous incident in the Basilica some months ago, shortly followed by Cain wrecking havoc in Albion. That leaves him and Lorelei to play this charade for a month at least. One month of running about the Holy City in drag, with Ivan laughing at him and Lorelei using him as a convenient drinking source.

Disgusted, he tore off the offending habit and wimple once in the locked safety of his room. Dark bruises were forming on his shoulder where Ivan had gripped him earlier. "Dietrich?" A mocking voice froze him in his tracks. He spun around and crashed into a uniformed chest. The faint smell of cigarette smoke could only mean… "Isaak." Dietrich pulled away from Isaak. The Panzermagier must have teleported himself to his room. Feeling his head spin, Dietrich fell against Isaak.

"I see Lorelei had a little nightcap," Isaak brushed against the raw puncture wounds in the puppeteer's neck. Dietrich groaned at the indignity of it, painfully aware he was wearing only a thin chemise. Ivan had insisted he wore women's undergarments under the habit. Roughly, Isaak dragged him over to the bed and sat him down. :"Listen here, Marionettenspieler…" he whispered into his ear, leaning close to him. "I do not trust Ivan or the Pilot… they are stringing us along for the ride. You must know something, don't you?"

"Dimitri's brat… Anastasia… but she should be in Albion with her grandmother," Dietrich murmured. Isaak's gloved hand was stroking his hair now. It was surreal. "That child poisoned me… she is important to them, somehow…"

Isaak frowned. This was news to him. Dietrich had not been too specific about what happened to him in Albion. _Dimitri's offspring._ _Why the sudden interest three months back? _Fritzroy and Ivan have not expressed any interest in Albion after Cain's visit. Sending Scher there was almost an afterthought, and probably to keep her out of their hair in Rome while they attempt to kill the Pope.

"Keep your eyes open in Rome, Dietrich. Dimitri's brat may be in the neighbourhood. I must be going back, before Cain gets upset…" Absently, he planted a kiss on Dietrich's pale brow. Noticing the new bruises on Dietrich, he frowned slightly, letting his gloved fingers brush against that pale shoulder. Hurriedly, he pulled them away.

Dietrich made a spoke in a whisper. "Isaak, you are going to walk away from me again, right?" Isaak halted. "Yes."

"After kissing me?" Dietrich clenched his eyes shut. He sounded clingy, even to himself.

"What do you expect me to do? Read you a bedtime story? Fine. There was stubborn little puppetmaster who ended his sleep. Get some sleep, Di…" When Dietrich opened his eyes, the raven-haired Methuselah was gone.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I slipped in a Isaak & Di moment. Anyone wants more IxD?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

The afternoon sun shone down on the holy city and on the somewhat restful nursing home where assorted priests and nuns lived out their last days in a haze of senility. One inhabitant was far from senile. White-haired and thin, his eyes were alert as he sat lazily in a rocking chair on the porch. He knew the abbess Eris and her little miracle-worker were away in Albion this week. He sighed. If it weren't for Avignon's stand on miracle-cures, he would like to treat Faith's illness himself. But then again, that particular illness was notoriously difficult to cure. _Where was Abel?_ His student had informed him that the Crusnik would be visiting. And he had set up a small tea table on the porch, complete with a very English tea, with an overflowing sugar bowl for his sweet-toothed comrade. Finally his patience paid off. Father Peter strolled up to the gate with a silver-haired priest.

"Abel? Is that you, old friend?" William called out cheerfully. Abel waved to him, hurried across and promptly tripped on the cobblestone yard of the nursing home. William winced at the sound of Abel's face meeting the cobblestones. "Some things never change," Carmen murmured from behind the rocking chair where she had projected herself. Abel groaned from the cobblestones. "Professor… I think I am dying…"

"Carmen, Peter, please give Father Abel his sugar cubes. I think his blood glucose is a tad low," the Professor said clinically. His two students chortled. Still, Peter went to help him up. Together they went inside for a cup of tea.

Halfway through their cordial get-together, Carmen broke in on William's commentary on the reasons for the Pope's apparent seclusion. "Bother, I am receiving a transmission," she paused and whispered. "It's from the Empire."

* * *

Once safely inside the nursing home's overgrown greenhouse, Carmen proceed to project the transmission. A ghostly image projected itself in the centre of their group. Astaroshe Asran let loose a string of expletives as she shielded her eyes from too-bright sunlight. "Abel! You know I am sensitive to light!"

"Sorry, Asta. We had to improvise," Abel tried to mollify the duchess.

"Never call me Asta, Terran!" the duchess was in a particularly foul temper. As it was only a projection, Asta was not in any danger from the sun. However, the brightness annoyed her. Finally, the projection was shifted to the shady shelter of an overgrown rose bush and the duchess' rage somewhat assuaged.

"Lady Asran, what brings us this pleasure of your company?" William greeted her with his typical politeness. "It's not so much pleasure than an emergency, priest," Asta groaned and drunk deeply from a wine goblet in her hand. From the telltale flush on cheeks, she had been drinking for a while. "Is it the Empress?" Abel felt his chest clench. _Cain. Cain has got Seth in revenge for her helping him in Abion…_

To his relief, the duchess shook her head. "It's the Terror of Minsk. That brat has run away from Byzantium. He's going to get me into trouble. Must be a Fortuna thing… seeing his distant cousin took off with you, Father Abel. I have servants on his tail but he gave them the slip. In Berlin, Ravenchild was seen hopping on the night train to Rome. He mentioned something about fixing his cousin at the last party we attended…"

"Fixing… Ion?" Abel said. Ion was probably sleeping at this time of the day, safe indoors. "Ion can take care of himself. No worries… but the Inquisition…"

"I assure you your sympathies are misplaced. Obviously, you don't know Ravenchild or you will be running to save your tovarisch. Haven't you heard about how the Empire reclaimed the city of Minsk?" Asta snapped. Abel shook his head. "Guess I was stuck in the Sahara or Cathay at that time."

"That was about fifteen, no, seventeen years ago… you went to Morocco to investigate that child-kidnapping case… and for some unfathomable reason, you and Ion wound up in Barbados," William reminisced. "_For a year._ Cardinal Caterina almost declared you dead and we had the funeral planned out…" Noticing an embarrassed expression on Abel's face, William stopped. "But I digress, Minsk was known for its silver trade. The inhabitants were mostly followers of the Byzantium Orthodoxy. There was always some tension between the Vatican and the inhabitants, which eventually boiled over when Cardinal Francesco used a highway robbery of Inquisition silver near the city to wage a war on so-called heretics and impose Inquisition rule on the city."

"As Minsk was one of those old Terran towns, it has never been of great interest to the Empire. So the Empress sent Baron Rahid of Karnaf and Ravenchild to negotiate a peaceful evacuation of our citizens, if possible. The negotiation fell apart very quickly. Ravenchild declared open war to reclaim Minsk. When the Baron objected, Ravenchild had him whipped with a silver-braided knout. They say the poor bloke still has the scars," Asta shuddered. "He has never worked on court business since."

"As I recalled, the city was reclaimed by the Empire in a fierce battle that all but destroyed the city," Peter continued, toying with the knob of his cane. "The attack was carried out by a Terran army, and I thought the Empire's Terrans were not involved in the military, so Uncle Virgil told me… The Inquisition garrison was massacred to the last man, as were their supporters. The news brought about Cardinal Francesco's massive stroke. Nearly killed him."

"The Empire didn't have the time to despatch our forces. Ravenchild called on the sabres of his father's people and unleashed all hell on the city. The imperial court only found out about that victory when he sent the Baron back with the report, written on the dried hide of the Inquisition garrison's colonel. Ravenchild ran out of paper, you see. The brat's father was a Terran from the nomadic people of Black Sea steppes. Most of the race have settled in Byzantium in service to the noble houses where they are known for their loyalty, but a handful still live as bandits and herders. Those have a reputation for being fierce horse-warriors…" Asta explained. "I had to smooth things over with the Duchess of Milan then, if you recalled."

"The Cossacks?" Abel started. "I thought they died out centuries ago…" It was impossible that anything could have survived the radiation east of the Urals immediately after the Armageddon. "Perhaps they are gypsies…" But then gypsies were known for being travelling craftsmen and traders, not warriors.

"Cossacks, Mongols or Roma… I don't care what they call themselves. Ravenchild's father was a clan chieftain, almost a baron. They have caravans in almost every city in Europe. Hence my tovarisch's alarming ability to drift as a leaf in the wind. His wolves sacked Minsk so thoroughly that winter, Minsk still stands in ruins today. If Ravenchild gets in trouble, Mirka will kill me… Hopefully, his loyalty to the Empress is still his top priority instead of some family feud," Asta downed another cup of wine and gave a wry smile. "You have met him. He was with me the last time we met in Rome."

"I see," Abel recalled the black-haired page who had attacked and threatened him. "But Ion can't be involved in any feud, since he has been away from the Imperial court for so long…"

* * *

_Princess Anastasia._ Dietrich could not believe his luck when he chanced on the flame-haired novice leading her gaggle of orphans from the Vatican museum. The setting sun lit up that halo of red hair like a beacon. Those unmistakeable icy blue eyes met his across the crowded museum square. There was no change in her expression. _The Chapel of the Rosary. Fifteen minutes. _Even at that distance, he could see the message she signed out. There was no mistake she had seen through his disguise. Almost as an afterthought she added. _You look charming in that habit, sister. _Dietrich cursed. _The little bitch! _

"Ana?" Her fellow chaperon, Thomas, broke in. She seemed distracted, which was unusual. Thomas knew Ana took those outings very seriously and guarded her charges with an eagle eye. "Thomas, see them back please. I have some matters to see to… with a friend."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I based Ravenchild's father's people on the Cossacks, Tartar, or Mongol nomads. In short, nomadic warriors on horseback. Also dropped in a bit of gypsy (or Roma) into the mix. Anastasia vs Dietrich, round 2?


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

IxD warning. Tell me if the rating should up to M.

Some action?

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The Chapel of the Rosary sat off a secluded street off St Mark's, a quiet, lonely place that offered the perfect place for a Methuselah to hide out. Ravenchild stretched and yawned, pushing the lid of his box aside with a foot just a crack. There was still a bit of sunlight. In half an hour's time, he could leave the safety of his hiding place. Gil had done well to have him shipped into the Holy City with the new statue of the Virgin Mary. It was a snug fit in the box but his Terran second cousin has sculpted countless saints and angels for Rome for this delivery to raise any eyebrows.

For a while, he reflected how odd it was that the statue reminded him of his long-dead mother. Then he heard footsteps. _Surely Gil and his men will not be setting up the statue so soon! _Taking a risk, he propped himself up so he could peer out into the chapel. His box was placed near the altar. He could see the aisle clearly. A solitary nun, a novice by her blue uniform, was gliding down the aisle, a silvery rosary clenched in her hands. Her hair was like a flaming halo as she knelt piously before the altar, her striking blue eyes focused on the image of the Virgin. She was very young, not much older than he was when he turned.

"Doing penance, sister?" A voice called out from the door. An older nun was joining the first. The newcomer was brown haired and had a face Ravenchild would described as weasel-ish. The redhead turned to face the nun with a posture that showed clearly she was expected. There was something not quite right with her gait and he immediately realized why._ The newcomer was unmistakably male. _With Ravenchild's years of experience with disguises, there was no doubt about that. _That's it. If this precious pair tries anything kinky here, I will personally rip their innards out for raven fodder. _His father was a follower of the Eastern Orthodox Church who raised him in its ways and the idea of a tête-à-tête in such a sacred place seemed sacrilegious, even to a seasoned assassin like him.

"Dietrich von Lohengrin. I was giving thanks that my grandmother had the good sense not to marry you, thus saving me from the shame of seeing my grandfather dressed as a nun," Ana smiled broadly, showing her fangs slightly. "I take it that your interest in Rome has nothing to do with her lovely sights and sounds." _Interesting…_ Ravenchild mused. Maybe he would spy a while longer on this unusual exchange.

"Anastasia Flamevogel. The Flamevogel blood does show itself in you. I have to decline any tea you wish to offer me." Unused to his habit, Dietrich knelt awkwardly next to her. He felt a little light-headed from Lorelei's earlier feeding. _If he could just get his wires…_

"Leave those wires alone, Sister," Anastasia murmured as she sensed something pulling on her wrist. "You came here not of your free will but on your master's orders. And you are weak from blood loss, am I right?" The tightness round her wrist eased. "Grandmother told me a lot about you. In a strange way, I suppose she feels sorry for you a little… they were using you, just like you used others… and when you outlived your usefulness in that Ghetto incident, who killed you? Not Father Abel. Am I right?"

Throughout her words, she never met his eyes, focusing instead on the rosary beads in her pale hands. Now she turned those eyes full on him. Dietrich trembled as he fought to control his emotions. She had spoken the truth. He knew he was a mere puppet to the Orden, then and now. All of them were puppets… Isaak, the Baron of Luxor, Lorelei… "You know nothing!" he snapped. _What did she know, the pampered princess whose every whim was fulfilled? _He struck out hard with his fists, not bothering with the wires. Anastasia was knocked to the ground by his attack, but recovered sufficiently to roll out of the way of his boots. "Die, you little bitch!" He hissed. He raised his hands, summoning his wires. A sudden deluge drenched him to the skin, then the water froze instantly, numbing his body.

"I suppose you agreed with the young lady, my friend," the black-haired newcomer lounged idly by the holy water spout. Dietrich glared daggers at Ravenchild. He was freezing. Already, his fingers were stiff with cold. He pondered his next course of action. The sound of running footsteps and voices interrupted Dietrich's thoughts. He fled past Father Abel, Petros and Paula before anyone could stop him.

"Ravenchild, Count of Minsk, I presume," Father Abel greeted Ravenchild severely. "The Duchess of Kiev is very worried about you." Then he recognized the slightly dishevelled redhead sprawled before the altar. "Ana?" Ana dusted off her habit and picked herself off the ground, none the worse for wear. She sat down on the nearest pew as if she had not been fighting for her life earlier.

"Tell Astaroshe I apologize for any trouble," Ravenchild pulled his burnt hand from the holy water pool. "Captain Petros and Sister Paula? I apologize for my unseeming behaviour here."

"For an envoy, you chose a very unusual way of travel…" Petros glowered at the open crate with its Virgin statue. Thankfully, the handheld vampire-detector William had given them as a goodwill gift more than a decade ago still worked without a glitch. They would never have thought to look inside a chapel for a vampire. "Budget cut," Ravenchild shrugged while Paula bandaged his burns.

"For your own safety, I must insist you stay in one of our guesthouses," Petros growled. He didn't appreciate having rogue Methuselahs chasing some personal feud in Rome while he was still busy with the case of the cardinal's illegitimate child. Still, he was glad Abel had the sound sense and trusted him enough to notify him of the runaway nobleman. "Make me," Ravenchild stuck his tongue out childishly and sprinted out the doors, only to be caught by Ion. Abel groaned. Night had already fallen and Ion must have followed them to the chapel. A ferocious fight erupted that caught all off-guard.

Ion yelped in pain and surprise as Ravenchild withdrew a silver dagger from his sleeve with lightning speed and sliced a clean arc across his chest, drawing blood. If he had leapt back any slower, the blade would have cut deep into his chest. He reacted by drawing his own sword but Ravenchild parried his blow and drew blood again, this time cutting into the calf muscles. Stunned, Petros and Paula could only watch.

"Stop this, please stop!" Abel pleaded to no avail. As he went down Ion gave a desperate thrust that pierced clean through Ravenchild's sword arm. Already weakened from his earlier exposure to the holy water, Ravenchild lost his grip and the silver dagger fell harmlessly to the ground where Ion kicked it under a pew for good measure. A clear, deliberate clapping echoed through the deathly silent chapel.

"Very nice, gentlemen. Shall we continue this duel another time?" Anastasia clapped her hands. "I think an evening drink and some blood capsules are in order, don't you?"

"You carry silver daggers?" Ion gasped and clutched at his leg. The wound stung. "What Methuselah in their right mind carries those things?"

"One who has to fight his way into the Imperial Court!" Ravenchild retorted. "Count who was born with a gold spoon in his mouth." Ion ducked as the dagger's twin flew past his head and embedded itself in a pillar. "You little…" the pale blond yelled a curse in Imperial. Abel hurriedly restrained him. "Count of Minsk, please, your partner Lady Asran is very worried about you." Ravenchild relented. He yanked out the bloodied blade from his arm and retrieving his daggers, allowed himself to be escorted off by the Papal guards.

* * *

Isaak wondered what he was doing teleporting himself to Rome again. _Dietrich was capable of taking care of himself… Maybe not._ The Terran was shaking like a leaf in a corner of the hall. Frost clung to his garments, which have frozen to his skin. _In Rome's balmy autumn weather?_ The puppeteer's lips were blue from the cold and a trail of melting icicles on the floor betrayed his path. Was it Ivan's work? The false priest had mockingly informed Isaak that since he was Dietrich's supervisor on this mission, what he did to the Dietrich was his business. _Strange, Ivan did not use ice in his spells. _First, he had to do something.

Without a word, he yanked Dietrich forcibly to his feet and dragged him into the bathroom, where he tore the sodden clothes off the shivering young man. The fireplace had logs but Isaak didn't feel like starting a fire either manually or magically. Cranking the hot water, he filled the tub with warm water and shoved Dietrich in. Snapping out of the cold-induced stupor, Dietrich yelled bloody murder and lashed out at the Magician. "Be still!"

"She was right! You guys were using me all along!" Dietrich squirmed in his grasp. "You too! Why was my photo on _your _nightstand? I bet the whole Orden knows you get wet dreams about me. And you don't even got the guts to admit you are lusting after me since you took me in as a…" He was cut off abruptly by a gloved hand slapping his face.

"You are drunk with hypothermia." Isaak's voice was clipped. _What the in God's, no, the devil's name was he babbling about? _

"Am not!" Dietrich retorted. Without thinking, he pressed his glistening, naked body against Isaak and threw his arms about the Methuselah's neck. "Well?"

"If that is the way you want it…" Before Dietrich could react, he was shoved against the bathroom wall with Isaak pressing against him. Then Isaak's lips were savaging his mercilessly, forcing him to gasp for breath. Black spots appeared before his eyes as he swooned. Isaak's hand was on his thigh, light, teasing, forcing his legs apart. He blacked out. "You are such a little moron, I should just rape and kill you for that stunt," Isaak smirked as he caught the limp form in his arms. Planting a chaste kiss on the unconscious youth's brow, he carried him to the bedroom.

* * *

"Brother, I think William's gizmo is malfunctioning," Paula complained as she tapped the handheld vampire detector. The detector had failed to identify Anastasia as Methuselah, now it was announcing to the former Inquisition members that a vampire was in the Pope's chambers. To be sure, they had to check. All was peaceful. Cardinal Benedictia and Father Ivan were in the presence of His Sanctity, together with a heavily-veiled child.

"May God bless you, child," Pope Alessandro intoned as he prayed and blessed the child. Everyone knew the pope's heart's soft, perhaps too soft for someone in his post. Petros suppressed a flood of curses about the pope's clear disregard of protocol and security. They have received tips on a possible attempt on the life of the pope. All visitors should be properly screened by the guards. But if it were Father Ivan and Cardinal Benedictia, the guards may be inclined to turn a blind eye. The Duchess of Florence was taking a huge risk calling on the Pope with her child, seeing how much some of the guards like to gossip.

_Could the cardinal's child be a vampire? Or simply too badly burnt to go without a veil?_ Petros pondered. He was tired. Father Ivan's highly trusted and well-liked in Rome. He would not bring a vampire into Rome without notifying the papal authorities. "William's gizmo must be malfunctioning, like most of his other inventions," Petros smiled wryly. Paula did not appear to be very convinced. Still, they left to check on the security perimeter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

He had been an utter fool, in front of Isaak too. Isaak would never let it rest… Dietrich groaned. He really didn't want to leave his bed. Isaak must be telling the whole Orden what a shameless little slut he was… Hearing the door knob turn, he pulled the covers up… "Good morning, I trust you had a very busy night…" Father Ivan called out cheerfully. He strode over to the window and pulled the curtains wide open, flooding the room with bright sunlight that hurt Dietrich's eyes. The vampire priest smirked. The sunlight was not causing him any discomfort. He sat down on Dietrich's bed.

"Now, now… what exactly led up to you being carried to bed by our Panzer Magier? The look on his face was priceless when we caught him at your bedside. Lorelei was feeling a little thirsty you see… How's the hypothermia?" Before he could scoot out of reach, Ivan caught his wrist. "Now, now… what was Sister Hilda doing when we were paying a courtesy call on the Pope?" Dietrich winced as Ivan increased the pressure on his wrist.

"Let me go!" Dietrich snarled. He tried to summon his wires to bind Ivan. Ivan lifted a bemused eyebrow as Dietrich's wires tightened around his fingers, forcing him to release his grasp on that skinny wrist. Without batting an eyelid, he backhanded the Puppetmaster with his free hand. The Terran's head hit the headboard with a resounding crack. "My, my, what a disobedient little nun, we have here…" Ivan taunted as he slowly pressed down on Dietrich's throat. His victim choked and gasped for air. With a sinking feeling, Dietrich felt his consciousness slipping away…

"Let him go!" Isaak's voice cut through the fog. _What was he doing here still?_ He opened his eyes. Isaak stood at the far end of the room, safely out of the deadly sunlight. Ivan was clutching his injured shoulder with a look of pure hatred on his face as he faced Isaak. The shaft of sunlight shining onto the floor formed a barrier to Isaak since this particular guest house was never fitted with UV-filtered glass.

"I guess it has finally come to this, Isaak," Ivan murmured and lifted his uninjured arm to summon his shadows. "Where there's light, there is shadow… Sunlight has little effect on my shadows, although they are fonder of the night. Isaak, you know it."

"I can do more than summon shadow demons, Ivan…" Isaak raised his arms, speaking the incantation… The air crackled with dangerous energy…

"Children! Cease this foolishness!" The curtains drew shut. Fritzroy von Mansfield stood at the open door with a dark look on his face. Little Lorelei, clung to his coat, fully-veiled. Ivan and Isaak froze. The white-whiskered vampire grabbed the nun's habit that was lying over the chair and threw it at Dietrich. "Get dressed and take Lorelei out now. And stay out for the next two hours while I see to some discipline matters."

Dietrich considered making some snide remark, but decided discretion was the better part of valour. He hurriedly donned his disguise and taking Lorelei by her gloved hand, left the guesthouse at a good pace. Fritzroy waited a few minutes after hearing the main door slam shut before turning his attention to the disgruntled pair with him. "Now, boys, we must talk…"

* * *

"Use Di as bait?" Isaak spoke coolly. "For recruiting a nun?"

"Not just any nun, but a princess of Albion and the holder of the Key," Fritzroy replied. "The Key which possibly holds the answer to our problems. How does one kill a Crusnik? Let's face it. Do any of you actually enjoy having Cain lord it over you? The key that can free our kindred from the tyranny of the Empress…"

"Master Cain had my twin brother killed, even though Dimitri deserved it for betraying us for a Terran wench," Ivan ran a hand through his brown hair. "Very shocking, how the moron actually had the gall to confront us after I helped him out with the bitch. You can understand that, can't you? Watching someone you actually care for die…"

"You killed your own brother, if I recalled." Isaak smirked. "Cain killed, tried to kill Dietrich…" Fritzroy reminded. Isaak avoided looking into Fritzroy's eyes. It was awful remembering how he found Dietrich dead.

"Ah, Dietrich. That boy has always been special to you, right? I guess you owe us on this one."

"The only reason you bothered was because you wanted to use him against me," Isaak summarized. "True," Fritzroy shrugged. "But his life is in your hands, Isaak. After Lorelei tires of him…"

* * *

Anastasia was frowned as she studied the chapel she had been in the night before. Ever since she had turned, it was as if something was driving her every action. It was annoying to say the least. The Star. The chapel drew her like a moth to a flame. _Why had she confronted that boy again?_ She hadn't meant to poison him the first time hadn't she? _It is necessary._ The other Anastasia replied. She didn't want to leave her grandmother. She didn't want to come here with two strangers. Why had she broken off her ties with the White Rose Society and the promise of a safe but cloistered life in Albion? _Necessity requires sacrifice._ The voice inside her insisted. She was scared. The altar was in shadow since the chapel was dwarfed by larger buildings around it. Even now, the dark made her uneasy.

_You need not fear the shadows, they will not hurt you. Not if you are with them…_

_Who?_ She clutched the Star more firmly. The guiding voice always seemed to grow clearer when she did so.

_Hush now, look to the altar…The Rose and the Cross… _

"Ana, what are you doing here?" Abel was very surprised to see Anastasia stroll into the chapel, given her encounter last night. The girl had remained calm an collected, until they reached the former AX headquarters, where she had broken down in tears and insisted they kept her company throughout the night. It was Abel who had stayed with her, watching over her as she slept, since Ion was recovering from his injuries.

"Nothing." Ana drew back from the altar. She would need to return later, when the silver-haired priest was not watching her like a hawk.

* * *

"I am thirsty…" Lorelei whined and tugged at her guardian's hand petulantly. "Now?" Dietrich hissed. It was highly inconvenient time for a feeding since they were out in the public square on a busy morning. Lorelei nodded. "Can't it wait?" _Little brat…_

"I will sing you to sleep first," Lorelei suggested sweetly. "Hell, no," Dietrich cursed. The last time she sang him to sleep for her feeding he was almost dead from blood loss when she was finished. "I think I will sing _Edelweiss_…" Lorelei continued. "Not if I break your neck first," Dietrich grumbled. _If he killed Lorelei, Ivan will kill him. Even if Ivan spared him, the Countess will carve him slowly and painfully to pieces…_

"Alright, let's go off somewhere quiet."

* * *

Sister Paula watched as Cardinal Benedictia's daughter and her chaperon hurried down a lonely alley. How odd. She had happened to notice them by chance on her way to the Papal guardhouse with a box of Petros' favourite mince pies. Seeing the reclusive child without Father Ivan was reason enough for her to follow them at a safe distance. After all, Cardinal Avignon may have set up his own people to ferret out proof of any scandal that could unseat his enemies…

The nun and her charge stopped in a shadowed alleyway. The nun sat down and undid her collar while her charge leaned over her. _What the?_ The child lifted her veil slightly and bent down to her chaperon's exposed neck. And sank her fangs into flesh. Paula froze. _Vampire!_ The realization chilled her. The cardinal's daughter's a vampire, and unlike the Count of Memphis or visiting Methuselah envoys, she was feeding off fresh blood from living humans. She stepped back and slipped on a discarded tin can.

The resulting fall knocked the wind from her. When she recovered, she knew the pair were aware she had seen them. Feigning ignorance, she hobbled away, ignoring her aching hip. "She has seen you," Dietrich flexed his fingers. He could easily rip her to pieces where he stood. Lorelei grabbed his wrist. "No. Not yet," she pleaded. Dietrich almost stumbled. He had lost too much blood from Lorelei's feeding. "Well, we can't let her tell anyone."

The young vampire took a deep breath and started to sing a haunting melody that made the hairs stand on the nape of his neck.

"_What child is this that hath lain to rest, on Mary's lap is sleeping?" _Initially, Paula dismissed the innocuous voice as that of some young nun practicing her hymns. She must get away, warn Petros… She felt oddly light-headed. The alley seemed to fade away before her as she forged on. The singing voice sounded like an angel's would. A peaceful feeling washed over her.

Yes. She was a little girl again. Back on her father's farm before the war with the vampires took everything away from her. It was her mother singing as she kneaded the bread in the kitchen. She had sent her to milk the cow in the barn and now she was hurrying back to the kitchen with the milk… There was a nagging feeling something was wrong. _"Whom angels greet with anthems sweet while shepherds' watch are keeping…"_

The kitchen door seemed so far away. Her mother was calling. Mother was calling. _Wait, wait,_ a little voice in Paula called out in protest. Her mother's voice grew more insistent. She sprinted onwards, spilling milk onto the new snow… The realization hit her. Her family never kept any cows. They only had a single nanny goat. The farm melted away as she was rudely snapped back to reality.

The first thing she registered was the busy main street of Rome and the horse carriage bearing down on her…

"Aw, what a shame," Lorelei murmured. "She could have died happily.'

"Let's finish this, shall we?" From the safety of the alley, Dietrich and Lorelei watched the drama unfold. For good measure, Dietrich had cast his wires out onto the driver and the horses bearing down on Paula so that there was no way they could stop.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Déjà vu? Shall we kill off poor Paula? The cat's out of the bag with Lorelei.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 9 **

Frozen, Paula closed her eyes, prayed and braced herself for the impact. When it came, it knocked the wind from her. The carriage driver shouted curses. His beasts neighed in fear, hooves trashing. The carriage teetered dangerously before toppling over onto its side and into a lamppost, nearly crushing a friar. Pandemonium reigned.

"Paula, Sister Paula!" A voice cut in through the haze of pain.

Agony shot through every bone in her body. She opened her eyes. The bespectacled AX priest was bent over her. She was still alive. "W-what in God's name were you doing?" The voice sounded strained. Petros. Petros was lying partially on top of her from having knocked her clear of the carriage. His voice was strained. His face was pale as a sheet. When Paula's eyes focused, she saw the reason why. Her captain had failed to throw himself clear of the carriage wheels. His left leg was a mangled mess and spurting blood, despite Abel's best efforts to staunch the flow with a handkerchief.

* * *

Anastasia was back in the chapel. She had to act quickly. The strange pendant seemed to hum as she approached the altar. She clasped the Star in her hands and prayed. She had been here before, or had she? Perhaps it was in another life… She had read that some pre-Armageddon cultures believed in re-birth and that souls may recall their past lives. She had to look under the altar. She pushed it aside. Even with her Methuselah strength, it was heavy. It struck her immediately. _The Rose and the Cross._ The motif of the cross was common in such places. There was a crude craving of a cross in the wooden panel under the altar. Its centre was formed by a rose.

Ana felt dizzy. The inside of the chapel seemed to swim. She sat down on the nearest pew. _Watch and learn what happened…_

Hazy figures appeared before her. A brown-haired woman, wearing garments and headdress that had gone out of fashion three hundred years ago, appeared to rise from the floor where the craved rose-cross was. She seemed to shut the panel and replace the altar. Another three figures glided in through the chapel doors. The first was a handsome brown-haired man. The second was a raven-haired woman with a harsh face. Somehow, Ana knew they, and the first woman, were Methuselah. The last was a tall, blond man clad in white.

"Lord Cain!" The first woman hissed.

"Surprised, Tasha? Or shall I say Anastasia Flamevogel?" the blond Cain replied with a sinister smile. Ana almost screamed in alarm before she realized the figures were unaware of her. It was like watching a movie.

"What you seek is not here. Isabella, Fritz… have you forgotten the purpose of the White Rose Society? Bella, you are of the family of our founders, the von Kampfers!" Tasha pleaded with her fellow Methuselahs.

"Sorry, Tasha, unlike my misguided ancestors, power and knowledge is useless unless it is used. We are here only to seek your life and end it." Tasha's life ended in a sickening gurgle as Bella ripped out her heart.

"Master, our work here is complete," Fritz announced as he felt Tasha's wrist for a pulse as he did so, he pried a silver object from her hand and pocketed it. "And you are falling apart, sir…" Cain seemed to disintegrate before their eyes. The enraged blond tried to say something. White wings erupted from his shoulders but he crumbled to a pile of black glop in the aisle. Fritz scooped the mess gingerly into a sack. "Maybe someday, you'll get that right, Bella… when you do, run before he kills you," he winked at his companion before they faded out of sight.

"I see you have tapped into the power of the Star's memory bank, your Grace."

There was someone else in the chapel. He sat in the pews at the back where the shadows are deep. "What do you mean? I'm just a novice nun," Ana replied.

"Don't act coy, Princess…" Father Ivan smiled. He had never expected this impromptu visit to the Rosary Chapel to yield such astounding results. Maybe he could just kill Dietrich once Lorelei's tired of him, just to spite Isaak. God knows how much he hated that person. "The name Anastasia has been a tradition of sorts in our family. Every female of our lineage bears that name where we hail from…" the strange priest rose from his seat. Anastasia gasped.

"Father?" The likeness was uncanny. _But her father's dead, isn't he?_ Same ice-blue eyes. "My dear niece. I am so pleased to finally meet you," Father Ivan knelt before her and kissed her lightly on the hand. "Activating the Star can only be done by a true Flamevogel. I guess I have no need to kill you now."

"Really," Ana sounded a little peeved. She had heard some Methuselah households think nothing of exiling or killing relations who have disgraced them. "Those shadows were your work, weren't they?"

"Well, your mother was Terran and…" Ivan caught himself before pronouncing her a mongrel. He studied her carefully. Those ice-blue eyes betrayed her Flamevogel heritage as did her uncanny intellect and perspective. Her flame-red hair framed her fine featured face.

"What I saw really happened before, did it?"

"Yes." Ivan and his twin had tried tapping into the Star's power before, with limited success, when Dimitri had a short stopover in Rome on a diplomatic mission. The violence of Grandaunt Tasha's death was supposed to be an excellent catalyst. Somehow, they were only able to invoke blurry images. Ana had no knowledge of the events that happened but yet… _He needed her, as much he hated to admit it._

_The Rose Cross. What irony._ Ivan studied the panel under the altar. If Tasha had emerged from some secret chamber, she could be hiding the map there. He pried the panel loose under the watchful eyes of his niece. To his disappointment, the chamber below was flooded. Three hundred years of neglect had done its work. Taking a candle, he inched cautiously down the slimy steps into waist-deep water. Several stone caskets peeped out of the inky water. A crypt, he spat in disgust.

The same Rose Cross motif was craved on the caskets. He swept aside some of the slime to read some of the inscriptions on the caskets. Abbess Maria Flers, Brother Marcus Conelli… _Catholic clergy members._ This must be the resting place of members of the White Rose Society. Even before Cardinal Caterina Sofrza, some Church leaders espoused peaceful co-existence between Terran and Methuselah. Grandaunt Tasha may be just making a social call on her dead friends when she was killed.

Fritzroy must have known. Some sick perversion inspired him to use the name for their breakaway fraction. Leaving his niece in the chapel above, Ivan settled down for some grave-robbing, not that he expected to find anything after so long.

_Look up._ The Star hummed. Ana looked at ceiling above where the Rose Cross panel had been. There was a small stained glass skylight. _Remember_. She committed its details to memory. Silently, she slipped off. The skylight depicted a red-haired woman with a halo in the style of the Madonna. _St Lillith of Minsk_, the skylight proclaimed in minute words below. Ana was well-acquainted with the many saints, but she had not heard of a St Lillith of Minsk, yet.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

My characters seem to be coming to the front instead of the canon characters in this arc. Sigh. Hopefully, I can twist the plot a bit to allow more time with the canon characters.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

I received another review. It is reassuring to know I have readers for this fic.

* * *

**Chapter 10**

_A few days later, Berlin, Rosenkruez Headquarters_

"Master Cain?" He must be dreaming. A teenaged Isaak sat across the table from him. "Aunt Bella's really dead, isn't she?" He had not turned yet, but already he was showing promise of being stronger than his predecessor. "May she rot in hell," Isaak laughed.

"To a new beginning, Isaak, my boy…" Fritzroy toasted them with a glass of fresh blood. Isaak nodded vigorously, his long fringe half-covering his eyes. How long ago was that? Fifty years? A hundred?

With a sigh, Cain opened his eyes. He was a hopeless insomniac. Sleep was elusive and dreams even more so. Of course Grandaunt Bella's dead. He killed that bitch, in front of Isaak too. Bella nearly dismantled the White Rose Society on the Continent by assassinating its various leaders including her kinsfolk. Given the tangled relationships in the von Kampfer clan, he wouldn't be too surprised if Isaak had set him up to the deed. Isaak had proved himself to be every bit as cold-blooded as Bella. Yet, he had a soft spot… Dietrich. He knew Isaak had sneaked off to Rome several times over the past week…

"Isaak. What does that Terran mean to you?" Cain asked. Isaak almost dropped his cigar. "Nothing," he answered too quickly.

"Liar." Cain rose from his armchair and glided over to where Isaak was standing against the window. Taking him by the collar, he continued. "You are worried about leaving him with Ivan in Rome… He's distracting you… Now why do you suppose I killed him back then?"

"Because he is a smug, aggravating Terran?" Isaak cautiously disentangled Cain's fingers from the fabric. Cain laughed. "How droll. My recovery has been a little slower than normal… By any chance, did someone put you up to this?"

"No sir."

"Good… let's keep it that way. And you can keep our little Dietrich." The Pilot definitely had a hand in Dietrich's return from the dead… but for what purpose? The Flamevogels were always a thorn in his side, since the time of the Mars colonization. Fritzroy and the twins included. At least Dimitri's dead.

* * *

_Late evening, Rome_

Mother Eris returned to Rome with two unexpected guests while Father William was observing a virtual chess match between his protégé and Carmen. After a lengthy consultation with a doctor, Father Peter had decided the best place for his mentor was outside the nursing home, given the unfortunate occurrence of a few explosions when the old inventor tried to resume his experiments. The last one blasted a hole in the roof of his dorm.

"Hugue! It's good to see you again." Father William greeted him warmly the moment he stepped through the door. Father Peter Walsh was pleased to see Father Hugue was getting about with his walking stick. He moved over on the couch to allow the guests a seat.

"Good evening, Father William. Allow me to introduce my sister, Anias. She has been living in Albion…" Hugue replied.

"Ah, Albion! It's been a while since I last visited…" William exclaimed, eager for news about his homeland.

"You folks have loads of catching up to do, I presume. Tres, please help me tuck Faith in while I brew some tea…" Mother Eris handed the sleeping girl in her arms to the android. "Please tuck her into her bed and use the blue woollen blanket. It's a bit chilly tonight."

"Affirmative. Temperature reads fifteen degrees Celsius…" Gently, Tres took the child into his arms and walked down the hallway.

"Oh, please kindly have two guestrooms prepared for Father Hugue and Sister Anais. It is a bit late for them to find a room in the inns."

"Affirmative."

"How's Anastasia adapting to life in Rome?" Anais asked Abel softly when the latter joined them. "Yes. She is fitting in." _Just as her grandmother had done._ It was Anastasia who wheeled in the tea trolley. "Oh my," Abel's attention was immediately drawn to the tea cakes. Stars filled his eyes…

"Have a care to leave some for our guests, Father. I am sure they must be hungry after their long journey," Ana swatted his hand away when he reached for one. "Aw, just a wittle one wouldn't hurt..." Abel protested. Eris broke out into a warm chuckle, setting off a wave of laughter in the room. "Status report, Father Abel." Tres droned nonchalantly when he returned. He took in the scene stoically. Father Peter had laughed so hard that he had spilled his tea on the tablecloth and was busy wiping the mess.

Father William was shaking his head. "Some things never change. Déjà vu, don't you agree, Hugue?" Hugue had a smile on his face. Abel continued to remonstrate with Ana over the tea cakes until she finally relented, upon which Abel took half the cakes, prompting an outraged screech from the novice. "Let him be, Ana. We had dinner on the train," Eris soothed as she scratched her black cat. "Well, he had three helpings of dessert!" Ana retorted. "I can't work out how he eats so much sugar and is still as thin as a stick."

"The years fly fast, don't they? It seems like only yesterday Vaclav, Leon and Noelle were around…" Nostalgia filled William's voice. "Katie and Her Grace too. Esther's done very well as Queen. I know she can't visit. Protocol and all. I miss her…" He sucked absently on his pipe.

"Brother Petros and Sister Paula were involved in an accident about three days ago. Petros is still in hospital. His leg's in bad shape. They may have to amputate if it doesn't get better. Paula's in shock. Can't get a sensible word out of her," Carmen joined in. "They have her mostly sedated. She went hysterical after seeing the injuries Petros suffered. He saved her life, you know… And almost bled to death. Luckily, they got him to hospital in the nick of time..."

* * *

Abel stirred his tea. It always struck him at such times how fragile life was. His friends were aging and leaving one after another. Esther's health was the subject of endless media speculation, as was the Pope's. Ana sat down near Eris' feet and played with the black cat. _She's still a child…_

"_Watch her, Father. If you don't, she'll run circles about you,"_ Sir Cecil Walsh had offered him that piece of advice before he left Albion with Anastasia. Anastasia teetered on the edge of adulthood. Not quite a woman yet, but definitely not a child. She had been curious about the city when she first arrived, just as her grandmother had been. She asked endless questions about the city and life in it. She was awestruck by the magnificence of its buildings. She has been disappearing recently for hours on end recently. Carmen suggested she may be walking out with someone, possibly Thomas or some young Brother. Abel decided he must have a talk with Thomas or whichever young man Ana has been seeing. She was still too young…

Ana was flipping through the pages of a book now, having abandoned the black cat to its nap by the fire. She ran her finger along the page with rapt concentration. Her other hand toyed with the Star. Abel frowned. That pendant disturbed him. There were some slight vibrations about it…

"Where's the Count?" Hugue asked casually, breaking into Abel's thoughts.

"He is visiting an envoy from the Empire," Abel replied uneasily. The Count of Memphis had gone to make peace with the Count of Minsk on the express orders of the Empress, as conveyed by the Duchess of Kiev. At least Astaroshe was obliged to act as peacemaker between the hot-tempered pair. _Asta, who was every bit as hot-headed, if not worse, than Ion._ What was his sister thinking sending Asta? The chances of war breaking out in a Vatican guesthouse that night appeared particularly high.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Ana's keeping a secret from her guardians. Anyone expecting fireworks from the Methuselahs?


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

The guesthouse Ravenchild lodged in was comfortable. No, luxurious compared to his room in the AX headquarters. It irked Ion more than it should have for some reason. Ravenchild decided to stay on in Rome. Possibly for a second chance to settle his score with the Count of Memphis, Ion thought sourly. The Duchess had rushed over to Rome post-haste in light of the possibility of a full-scale war between two Imperial nobles. Astaroshe sat in an ornate armchair, scowling at Ion.

"Rav should be joining us shortly. He's slipped over to the consul…" Asta's words trailed off as Ravenchild and another page entered the room. "Empress," the duchess immediately leapt to her feet. Ion bowed. The uniform of an Imperial page allowed Seth to pass herself off as a youthful page from the newly established consulate on the outskirts of Rome. For a moment, Ion was struck by the uncanny similarities between Seth and Ravenchild. They both were slim-built with black hair cut in a similar style. Seth's eyes were green, while Ravenchild's were grey. Ion wondered if Ravenchild had acted as the Empress' body double on occasion. Seth sat down on the armchair vacated by Asta.

"Memphis, Minsk. First, I am most displeased by your ridiculous feud," Seth addressed Ion and Ravenchild sternly. "It is unbecoming. For shame, you are both of the House of Moldova! Blood is thicker than water."

"My grandma will never acknowledge this ill-bred pup!" Ion retorted, his blood boiling.

"You have no right to speak, you turncoat who ran off with a priest," Ravenchild hissed, his hand reaching for his dagger, Asta swiftly restrained him.

"Ill-mannered knave!"

"Traitor to the family without any honour so to speak!" Even restrained, the insults flew unchecked. Ion retaliated with equal vigour. Seth allowed both combatants to run out of breath before continuing.

"Are we done, my children? Good, Count Ion, Count Ravenchild. Now I order a truce." Seth raised her hand to forestall any protests. "This is an order. I want you both to swear to put aside your differences for now. Ravenchild, I want you to focus on your mission here. Ion Fortuna, the same for you." Ion started. _What? He has no mission, has he?_

"Ion Fortuna, vow on the honourable name of your House. Rav, on the bones of your mother," their Empress ordered. Reluctantly, the pair swore an oath both wouldn't break on the pain of death.

"Good. Astaroshe, Ravenchild, you are dismissed. You have already received your instructions." The pair bowed and took their leave.

"Ion, what I ask of you may seem unreasonable…" The Empress turned her gaze on Ion. "This is not to be repeated outside these walls. Not even to your tovarisch and my brother. You are to watch a certain Methuselah nun very carefully. We have reports that Contra Mundi and the Rosenkruez are making a move to regain the Star, and the one who holds it."

"The Orden's after Ana?" Ion exclaimed. Seth nodded solemnly. "I am afraid so. We cannot let the Star fall into Contra Mundi's hands or a disaster worse than the Apocalypse will befall us. As the sole surviving female directly descended from the Flamevogels, only Anastasia can tap fully into the Star's powers. If the need should arise, Count of Memphis, you are to kill her and deny them the Star."

"Kill… Ana?" Ion blanched. "What if I refuse?"

"This is a direct order, Count of Memphis. Believe me, it is a hard decision for me. You are the only one close enough to watch her, and the only one whose judgement I can rely on. I, too, hope it will never come to that. However, Ravenchild witnessed an exchange between Anastasia and a suspected member of the Orden some days ago in the Rosary Chapel. He has been ordered to watch the suspect. If she has been won over by the Orden…"

"I will have to kill her, wouldn't I?" His heart dropped to his boots.

"Ion, I know you are a gentle soul. If you can't bring yourself to do it, I will ask Duchess Asran or Minsk…." Seth's voice softened a fraction. Ion shook his head. "Leave it to me, Empress. I will do my duty as a member of the Imperial court." The last thing he wanted was the impetuous Terror of Minsk and his tovarisch within a hundred yards of Anastasia.

* * *

"We have a nun who is actually a Terran male and a Methuselah child living in the building. A priest identified as Father Ivan visits frequently with Cardinal Benedictia of Florence. There was some plot by Cardinal Avignon to discredit the Duchess of Florence over the alleged existence of her child. She thinks the young one is hers, but I think it is highly unlikely. Coincidentally, papal guards Petros and Paula, were involved in an accident a few days back," Ravenchild reported.

"Goddamned Terran Church politics," Astaroshe cursed soundly. She watched the lights in the guesthouse where the subject of Rav's surveillance was living. It was a stroke of luck the Vatican guesthouses were all located in the same general neighbourhood. A short venture onto the roof gave them a good vantage point.

"The subject behaves like a Terran. The child never leaves the building unless veiled. You know, I am tempted to pull off her veil and see if she is indeed as badly disfigured as rumours suggest," Ravenchild stretched idly on the roof and read a piece of paper. "I've just received a message from my people in Bavaria regarding the cardinal's daughter. Do you suppose it was coincidence the orphanage she was living at was the scene of a massacre. They blamed it on bandits but which self-respecting bandit would prey on a backwater orphanage? No survivors at all."

"You don't think it was sheer chance, do you?" Astaroshe was astounded by how thorough Ravenchild was. His unconventional use of Terrans to gather information, especially from his extensive Terran family, ensured a source of ready and reliable news. The Moldova bloodline ran strong in the Count of Minsk. It was little wonder many nobles have him tipped as the next Head of the Secret Service. A fact Mirka Fortuna was not willing to recognize.

"The fire that orphaned the cardinal's daughter may be an accident, but I've doubts about the child inside being related to Cardinal Benedictia. I have it on good authority that Father Ivan isn't as holy as he seems. I picked this up from Ion's pocket during our duel," Ravenchild thrust a note book under Asta's nose. "It seems he was suspected in the disappearance of several altar boys and nuns."

"They would never let a Methuselah take up the cloth."

"I'm not suggesting he is Methuselah yet. As a hunter, he will find it difficult to quit the game. If he is responsible for the nuns, it will be a matter of time before we have more missing nuns. I'll be glad to tie this matter with the Orden up, so I can get back to settling matters with my dear cousin."

"What's it about you and Ion? He may be an annoying little twerp, but he's a good kid," Asta murmured as she studied the notes scribbled in the book.

"Think of it as some family rivalry, if you wish. When we have our little duel, I will reserve a front row seat for you, tovarisch."

"If you really treat me as your tovarisch, you wouldn't keep some many things from me."

"It is because of that that I keep some not-so-pleasant things from you," Ravenchild laughed and slid down the roof slates to the window. "I'm nipping in for a drink. Wanna a brandy to keep the chill away?" He froze at the sill. There was slight movement at the edge of the adjoining roof and a shadowy figure dropping lightly into the street below. He drew his daggers. The hunt was on…

* * *

Back in the parlour, Abel was almost dozing, lulled by soothing familiarity of his friends' conversation and the friendly warmth of the hearth when Anastasia's voice snapped him back to awareness. "Excuse me, has anyone heard of a Saint Lillith of Minsk? I can't seem to find any references…" _Lillith._ Even now, the name wrenched at his heart.

"The name features in the Church on some occasion. In Kabbalistic tradition, Lillith was Adam's first wife, created from earth as he was. The tradition has it she fell from grace with God and spawned a race of vampires…" the Professor drawled lazily as he sipped his tea. "There was a Lillith hailed along with Saint Elisa as the defenders of Tunisia during the Armageddon. However, she was never canonized officially by the Church. Locals refer to her as the Archangel of Tunisia. Maybe Carmen can assist…" Abel closed his eyes. He remembered that battle all too well. The weight of his sins…

"I have tapped into the Vatican's electronic library, so far, no hits on Saint Lillith of Minsk," Carmen replied tartly as she tapped away at a holographic keyboard. "In fact, there has been little reference to the town of Minsk since it fell under the Empire's control two decades back. However, I have turned up a classified file named the Red Mars Project and the names Lillith, Cain, Abel and Seth…" Abel gasped and almost fell out of his chair. The silver-haired priest blanched considerably. There shouldn't be any records of the Red Mars Project left in existence.

"So there is no Saint Lillith of Minsk?" Ana pondered. _Why would there be a stained glass skylight honouring a non-existent saint in Rome? Or was she simply a saint forgotten by time? _Sensing Abel's unease, Mother Eris cut in. "Carmen, thank you for your trouble. But we really shouldn't be hacking into the Vatican's private files."

"Yes, Mother Eris. Father Nightroad, sorry if I caused you any distress," Carmen apologized. Abel sensed she may have peeked inside the file all the same. "If it is of any interest to you, the files' contents have been deleted. Also, there are related files on Genesis, Adam and Eve deleted … that is, if you are interested…" she whispered.

"She has reddish hair and dark skin, at least from what I know…" Anastasia continued. The image of the saint came to her clearly. "She wore white. She's tall and very wise…" Abel choked back a sob and hurriedly left the room. "What's with the Father?" Ana asked innocently. The older members of the AX team looked away. It was Tres who answered. "Mention of the word 'Lillith' and description of subject induces intense fluctuation in Father Nightroad's brainwaves and heart rate."

"I think it's time for bed, don't you, Ana?" Eris coaxed the novice. Obediently, Ana bade them good night and went to bed. By this hour, priest-in-training Thomas O'Cleary would have made sure the other children were in bed. As to whether the former thief would be in bed, well, that was another matter that Eris didn't want to think about, yet.

If she had checked on Thomas, the abbess would have found his bed empty.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Any guesses regarding where Thomas has slipped off to? Thanks for the encouraging reviews. This is probably gonna wind up like an epic.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Thank you for the reviews. Ravenchild's going to reveal how much he actually knows from his sources.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"How's Grandmother?" Ion asked. He had written a few letters to his grandmother since they last met in Albion but Mirka never replied. No doubt she had not forgiven him for turning down the last match she had tried to force on him. The Novazski family were respectable enough to be associated with the House of Moldova but he had never even met his proposed bride-to-be. The notion of a political marriage did not appeal to him then.

Seth sighed. This business with the Moldova succession had been a problem since Ion's defection with Abel. Ion had been groomed by Mirka as her heir apparent and the family had declined considerably in recent decades with various cousins and relatives dying in rebellions or getting disowned. Mirka did have another potential heir, if only she could accept Ravenchild's partly Terran parentage. Then Rav's father was a silver dealer and a rumoured robber baron, which didn't sit well with the other nobles…

"Caught this rat sneaking about outside. I was about to cut his throat but the Duchess suggested we might get in trouble for killing a novice," Ravenchild unceremoniously kicked the door open, interrupting their conversation. He was bleeding from a wound in the stomach. The front of his uniform dripped blood onto the carpet. Astaroshe brought up the rear with a limp figure under her arm.

"Thomas!" Ion exclaimed as Astaroshe dumped the black-haired Irish novice onto the carpet. "One of yours? I suppose the AX guys don't trust you that much," Ravenchild smirked. Thomas quickly recovered, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head where he had been stunned. He had a nick on his cheek, otherwise, he seemed untouched.

"I wasn't snooping on you, Count. I'm just-erm- checking out- erm- the streets…" Thomas stuttered. "You know, keeping tabs on Father Ivan now Brother Petros and his deputy are laid up and their men are slacking…"

"Father Ivan's lodged in The Mitre over on the other side of town. And since when do you volunteer your services to the Papal Guard?" Ion's eyes narrowed. _Could it be that his so-called friends from AX distrusted him even after all these years? _Thomas turned beetroot-red. He opened his mouth, than closed it like a goldfish. A gleam of mischief came to Seth's eye. Thomas' awkwardness reminded her of Ion, when he was having that crush on Esther.

"If you are thinking of courtship, I would suggest roses and a lute," the Empress spoke in a clear voice.

"Harmonicas don't work?" Thomas blurted out. The Methuselahs were speechless. Seth continued. "Well, a harmonica may be useful if your singing voice isn't exactly melodious. So who's the lucky lass?"

"I don't know her name yet… but she's, well, a sister… She has the loveliest brown hair and…"

"And she happens to be living in_ that_ guesthouse?" Ion gaped. "Thomas, you know there're some irregularities…" Astaroshe was struggling to find words while Ravenchild was bent double with a hand on his mouth either from pain or laughter or both. "Tell Romeo here his lady love is a man and a known member of the Orden," Ravenchild finally found his voice. "It's all in my report there. His name's Lohengrin," the Count leapt onto the armchair and fished behind a large picture frame before retrieving a large manila envelope. "Excuse me, Augusta, but I was hoping to sort the information out before forwarding it to you." He paused and raised an eyebrow at Ion and Thomas.

"Rav, we could be working very closely with AX, so please proceed," Seth ordered. Nodding, Rav emptied the contents onto the table. A single pencil sketch drifted off the table top and at Ion's feet. Instinctively, he picked it up. He gave a loud gasp. The face was unmistakable, even though he had only seen it once as a holographic projection fifty years ago. But he should be dead. Abel saw him die. Even if there were some mistake, he should have aged as a Terran would.

"Dietrich von Lohengrin," Ravenchild continued. "My contact in Bavaria made this based on eyewitness description. He took a room at an inn with a Father Ivan. His connection with the Orden is circumstantial for now but the fact that he is playing nanny to a Methuselah child trying to pass herself off as a Terran cardinal's daughter…" he left it hanging.

"Wait, you are telling me that she's a he?" Thomas blanched. "I need a drink," the novice fished out a small whisky flask from his cassock and took a generous gulp.

"There, there, we all make mistakes. If you need more proof, I can go retrieve those bugs I have planted in there the next time the house is cleaned on Wednesday and we'll see if Sister Hilda pisses standing or…" Rav grinned wickedly. Thomas let out a crestfallen sigh. "I guess this is the end of my pathetic first love."

"It doesn't count, boy. Not unless she returns your feelings," Seth soothed. The Terran only downed the rest of his flask. "Ion, you better see your friend home…" Ion obliged.

Asta looked at Rav incredulously. "You had bugs planted in the bathrooms?" The raven-haired count nodded. "To pick up sounds," he replied in a whisper. "You need treatment for that, tovarisch," Asta indicated the bloodstain on Ravenchild's tunic. "Sure, I'll see to me, _myself_." With that, the Count of Minsk left for his room.

* * *

Sleep eluded Abel Nightroad. He remembered Lillith, Seth and even Cain, the way they were back then… So much has happened. So much has changed. The faces of his late comrades and friends drifted through his mind. Caterina, regal and commanding. The mildly flirtatious Noelle and the prim Kate. Leon with his ever-present grin. Vaclav with his quiet manner… He tossed and turned and finally went to the window. Only a few more hours to dawn…

Someone was in the street looking up at his window. An old man with white hair and equally white whiskers. _A Methuselah._ His Crusnik senses registered. The nanomachines in his blood stirred slightly. He gripped onto the curtains so tightly that he ripped some of the rings out. The watcher must be old, even for a Methuselah. Then with a turn of his heel, he was gone, striding briskly out of sight down the street.

"Father?" Abel snapped out of his trance-like state. His roommate was back. Ion shuffled in, bare-chested and a scowl on his face. "We may have a problem…" He had just seen an inebriated Thomas to bed after fishing him out of a local tavern, but not before the Terran threw up over his shirt. He struggled over how to break the news to Abel as he pulled on a fresh shirt. He chose the blunt direct approach. "The Orden's involved in this plot involving the cardinal's child. Father Ivan's probably in on it too. The Empress is concerned about it. And Dietrich von Lohengrin may be involved."

"That Dietrich? He's dead! I saw Cain kill him!"

"Well, you came back from the dead, didn't you?" Ion replied. It sounded crazy. Dietrich was a Terran but the Orden had access to dark powers that even the Empire wouldn't bear thinking of.

* * *

A feverish Petros was dully registered a vague figure leaning over him. _Was this it? Was this how death would be?_ He had overheard the doctors discussing his condition earlier. A fierce infection had entered his body through his wound. His leg was in bad shape but even if they amputated it now, he still had the infection in his blood. He had resigned himself to losing his leg. They had injected him with some fairly strong painkillers, maybe he was hallucinating.

"Petros, hang in there… I now you can hear me." A hand squeezed his. He replied with a squeeze. Paula. He recognized that voice anywhere. He tried to speak but almost gagged on his oxygen tube. "Petros, I am not insane even if they say I am. The Duchess, she does not believe me…They may have me moved. Listen well." He managed a weak nod. In a hurried whisper, she related what she had witnessed the morning of the accident.

"If anything happens to me…" she paused before giving his hand one parting squeeze. Then she limped back to her ward, leaving a bewildered and helpless Petros behind. It was a streak of good fortune the guards posted outside her ward had dozed off. She dared not risk lingering any longer.

Unbeknown to the pair, a visitor was calling at the night desk of the hospital. "Sister Paula? Her Grace has strict orders she's not to be disturbed," the night-shift matron replied. "Besides, visiting hours are past…"

"Special instructions, sister. Her Grace has ordered me to pray for Sister Paula before she moves into the asylum. Surely all that talk about a rogue vampire child on the loose in Rome can only be the product of a troubled mind," Father Ivan smiled before proceeding to Paula's ward. It was rare for Lorelei to slip up. And she probably would have silenced the old woman if it weren't for a meddlesome Petros. They can't risk their only witness talking and being taken seriously. The presence of the Imperial envoy wouldn't pose a problem. On contrary, it may even be a god-sent advantage. When the Pope gets killed, both them and AX will take the fall.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Looks like Paula's little reprieve is over.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Readers have found Thomas' misadventure amusing. Rest assured Thomas will not be developing any more crushes soon.

Warning: Canon character death implied.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Sister Paula is what?" Mother Eris almost dropped the phone. By the window, Abel and William paused in the middle of their game of draughts at her outburst. Across the hall and ushering the children to the classroom, Anastasia had stopped and was looking at her curiously with her blue eyes. Eris felt a wave of unease wash through her. Those eyes always seemed to peer into her mind while remaining as unfathomable as icy pools. Thankfully, those strange eyes turned away as Anastasia ushered her charges down the hallway. Eris never had reason to use her powers on Ana yet, but she suspected that it would be like reading a blank book. Regaining her composure, the abbess concluded the conversation in hushed tones. "Professor, Father Nigthroad, the study in ten minutes. Get Ion and Thomas as well."

* * *

Eris looked around the study. The Professor was smoking his pipe at the open window. A habit he has yet to break despite his repeated promises to do so. The Count of Memphis was half-dozing in an armchair in the shadows. Thomas, looking a little hung-over, was perched in the other chair. Abel was, well, helping himself to the bowl of sweets Eris kept in the study. Tres would have been around too, if he were due for his scheduled maintenance at Father Peter's workshop. Carmen had volunteered to show their guests around Rome. The sound of children's voices reciting their multiplication tables drifted in from the classrooms.

"That was Cardinal Benedictia. She called from the hospital. Sister Paula was found missing from her ward this morning," Eris announced calmly. "Her Grace is greatly troubled. Do you recall any words Paula may have spoken during that accident, Father Nightroad?"

"Ah, she did mention something about the Cardinal's daughter but mostly, she was hysterical about Brother Petros…" Abel scrunched up his face as he struggled to recall.

"Her daughter?" Eris raised an eyebrow. No wonder Benedictia sounded so evasive on the phone. An illegitimate child could be a major embarrassment for someone with political ambitions like Benedictia. "Father Nightroad," Ion yawned. "Don't tell me you haven't told AX about the Orden." He glared at the priest. "You promised to tell them at breakfast and it's almost teatime."

"Oops, must have slipped my mind…" the priest blubbered. "So sorry, so sorry…"

"The gist of it is that the Rosenkruez is in on some plot. The so-called daughter may not even be related to Her Grace…" Ion decided to leave Ravenchild's involvement out. "The sister accompanying her is a member of the Orden and Father Ivan's probably involved as well. I suggest we speak to this Father Ivan…" As a Terran, Father Ivan would be no match for Thomas or Ion if he chose to resist. "Has anyone spoken to that priest yet?" Ion scowled. Out of deference to the Papal Guard, they had refrained from contacting the priest, but if Petros' accident was not so simple…

"Sister Paula did question him regarding the disappearances," Eris replied. "He appears an unlikely suspect, being a Terran. He is well-liked and trusted. Vaclav tried to get him to join us once, but he refused." She shrugged. "I have not met him before…"

_Except Ivan may not be Terran…_ Ion mused.

"We could drop by the hospital to investigate Miz Paula's disappearance…" Thomas murmured.

The study door burst open suddenly. A breathless Anais swept in with Carmen hovering behind her. "We got summat you oughta know, Mother Eris," Anais gasped. "We happened to spy a priest while srolling by the fountain. Sister Carmen told us his name is Father Ivan… And this priest is either Ana's father or his doppelganger… It strikes us as highly irregular, since poor Dimitri's dead and cremated…" Carmen obligingly flashed a ghostly projection onto the far wall.

Abel dropped his bowl of sweets. Ion leapt up with a curse. The image of Father Ivan Carmen had provided was the splitting image of Dimitri, Anastasia's late father. "It might be a coincidence," Carmen added. "He has spoken to me before, a nice gentleman. I can't imagine him being involved in those disappearances or the Orden. His records are flawless…"

"Hugue happened to jostle him by accident and he dropped a bottle of pills or summat…" Anais continued. "Then Hugue gets this strange look on his face while Father Ivan picks up his pills and carries on walking… He says we better report to you…"

"Where's Hugue?" Eris asked suddenly. Anais and Carmen looked around as if expecting him to be behind them. "Oh dear…" Eris murmured and stood up so suddenly, her black cat was evicted rudely from his perch on her lap. The cat yowled in indignation. _Knowing Hugue…_ "Professor, please relieve Ana from her teaching duties. And please see if Tres is done with his servicing. We must go over to the fountain now."

* * *

_Vampire… _Hugue paused to catch his breath. After years of hunting vampires, he had developed a sixth sense for such things. Although they had met this vampire in the sun, it meant nothing. Ana has debunked the myth regarding sunlight. That priest was carrying a bottle of those blood capsules so essential for vampires. When he smiled, Hugue had noticed the unusually pointed canines… fangs… His knees ached by the time he reached the far end of the square. Wryly, Hugue acknowledged that he was not as young or fit as he used to be.

"Father Hugue de Watteau…" a cold voice sounded from somewhere behind him. "You should not be walking around Rome alone…" It was a man's voice, soft as silk. Hugue turned. The speaker was standing at the top of the sweeping steps of Saint Agnes of Rome. He was none other than the vampire-priest. He was not alone. With him was a young novice nun. Anastasia.

"Let her go, vampire!" Hugue managed to wheeze as he struggled up the steps. His outburst attracted the curious stares of the congregation that was emptying out of St Agnes. As he neared the pair, he noticed their identical glacial blue eyes.

"Blood is thicker than water, Father… you should know that better than most…" Ivan smiled. Before he could react Ana was beside him. He felt a slight sting in his arm. "Sorry, Father, this is for your own good…"

* * *

"Anastasia?" Father William was bewildered when he entered the classroom to find only the orphans reciting their tables. Their young teacher was nowhere in sight. Before he could recover, Peter came in with his face pale. "Where's Ana? I got some bad news for her…"

"Well, my boy, she isn't here." William always referred to him as boy even though he was old enough to be a grandfather. "What's got you in such a fluster?"

"It's the Queen. Queen Esther has passed away. They just announced it on the BBC radio…"

* * *

"I'm surprised you didn't kill him, niece. We could write it off as a heart attack or something." He was awoken by voices. Hugue tried to move his limbs but found he couldn't. He was lying in on a church pew. He was able to see and hear his surroundings but otherwise, he was helpless. At least he was alive, for now. "Please, uncle… I just gave him a sleeping draught. He'll be out of it for a day or so…"

"Have you reconsidered my offer, Ana? Join us. And we can establish a new order…" Ivan drawled lazily.

"Liar. You killed my parents, didn't you?" Ana retorted. "If you want this trinket, take it! I don't need it."

"Silly girl, you know we need your power to use the Star… Besides, how can you be sure AX aren't using you as well? Everyone is selfish. At least we share the same blood. What happened to your father was unfortunate. You don't expect Cain to let him off so easily, do you?"

"I still have Grandmother!"

"A dying, oops, dead woman. Haven't you heard the news yet? There, there…. You know how Terrans are like…" Hugue heard the soft sobbing of a little girl.

"You still have me, your uncle Ivan," Ivan hugged Anastasia awkwardly, trying hard not to think of her Terran parentage. "I have to admit I hated your mother for turning your father away from our goal."

"What is the goal then, uncle?" Ana firmly pushed Ivan away a little. She didn't want to get too fond of Ivan. Hugue was struggling against the drug. Finally, the drug finally won and the Sworddancer drifted off into sleep.

"The goal of a new order, niece, where we will be free to make the rules and pursue our dreams and desires…" Ivan's mouth twitched slightly. He had selected this moment to broach the topic of her entry to the Orden for good reason. His niece possessed both intelligence and control worthy of the Flamevogels. Her grandmother's death had unsettled her, but she seemed to have recovered her composure swiftly. She may grieve further in some quiet corner later, but never in front of him.

"You could bring the dead back, you know if you know how…" Ivan whispered. "Just think, you'll have your parents and your grandmother back…"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Yes, Ivan's trying to get Anastasia to join the Orden. Will she succumb to temptation? And will Hugue survive this run-in with a vampire?


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Fanficnet's been acting weird lately. So the hiatus. Yes, Esther's dead. (Sorry Esther-fans. She's unlikely to pop up again, except maybe as a memory or a ghost)

* * *

**Chapter 14**

Anastasia had not returned after she had uncharacteristically left her young charges unattended. _"Some sister called her from the street, she told us to work at our multiplication table and left," one of the twins volunteered. "Mister Crow said she left St Agnes' with a priest. He saw her leave," Teensy added. _Teensy may seem to understand the crows and rats in the city but she had an overactive imagination as well. Still, they went to the church, and found Hugue lying in the back pews, heavily drugged but otherwise unharmed. They were obliged to leave him there under the watchful eyes of his sister until the drug wore off.

Thomas studied the five-storey sheer drop outside the window of Paula's ward. "One thing's for certain, Sister Paula didn't climb out of any windows. Count? Are you listening?" The blond was lost in his thoughts. Esther's dead. _Anastasia was missing…_ "COUNT!"

"Sorry, Thomas," Ion apologised. There were few clues in the ward that gave any hint of a struggle. It seemed that Paula had vanished into thin air. "Who did you say discovered the disappearance again?" He looked out the window. The moon shone down on the holy city.

"A nurse. The last visitor Sister Paula had was a priest… Father Ivan. That vampire-page has agreed to help watch out for Anastasia and this Father Ivan. Mother Eris is with Her Grace. Obviously, her brat has gone missing too. The guesthouse was empty. Father Peter has gone over to check on Father Hugue. They are expecting him to come out of it soon…" Thomas perched on the edge of the vacant bed. It didn't help that the Cardinal had decided to wait half a day before turning to AX.

"Will Ana need blood soon?"

"She took some blood capsules with her. Enough for two days if she's careful. At her stage, she shouldn't need to rely on fresh blood any more," Ion explained.

"What a relief."

"WHAT… HAPPENED… TO PAULA?" A voice boomed from the hall.

"Sir, you shouldn't be up so soon after the operation…"

"I am not going to let THIS stop me!"

"Sir, please! You're disturbing the other patients."

The trainee priest and count turned around to find Petros struggling with a wheelchair as a flustered night nurse tried in vain to persuade him to return to his bed. The nurse and the elderly Petros were soon engaged in a tug-of-war for control of the wheelchair. "Need a peg-leg?" Thomas remarked as he studied Petros' bandaged stump. "I know a Dubliner pickpocket who could out-run any cop on his… it may suit you…"

"Watch your words, Tommy," Ion rebuked the novice. "He's Terran and he's not going to re-grow that leg like I did when you blasted mine off with a bazooka."

"Aw, I thought we agreed to put that behind us," Thomas turned red with embarrassment. "I thought you were gonna attack Mother Eris…" After maiming Ion with one of the late Father Leon's old but still-working bazookas, Thomas had tried to finish the job with a silver dagger. Only Eris' timely intervention had saved his life. On hindsight, his first meetings with various members of the AX team seemed to involve a threat on his person. Tres and Hugue were fine examples.

"She warned me this would happen…" Petros covered his face with his hands and murmured. "Sister, please leave me for a while." Doubtfully, the night nurse complied and announced that she would be back in thirty minutes.

* * *

Anastasia was terrified to say the least. It was dark in the catacombs. She clung to her uncle's hand as they walked briskly through the slimy tunnel. Dietrich followed them, slowed by a sleeping Lorelei riding piggyback. He was still wearing his nun's outfit and did not appreciate being wakened from a rather pleasant dream about torturing a certain priest. Finally, they came upon a cavern. A lone old man stood in its centre. He frowned when he saw Dietrich and Lorelei.

"Ivan, I told you I wanted this to be private," Fritzroy chided. "Sorry, sir. I was expecting some trouble back in the guesthouse. Some gypsies were snooping about the place. Besides, it never hurts to bring insurance…" Ivan laughed softly and stroked Ana's cheek. "Ana, meet Grandpa Fritz." Bending down, he whispered into her ear. "He's your grandfather, Ana. And the real founder of the Orden. Don't believe what those deluded ones say." He cast a meaningful glance in Dietrich's direction.

"Anastasia Flamevogel. Have you fully awakened?" Fritz asked authoritatively. The atmosphere took on a solemn air as if in anticipation. "She has, Grandfather Fritz. She has hunted and killed," Ivan replied on her behalf. "A lowly scum of a thief, but a kill nevertheless." He had studied her carefully since she turned. There was steel in her, but kindness too. Kindness and love equate weakness, as far as Ivan was concerned. Yet it was her liking for the kindly Sister Anais that had caused her to attack the thief. Just as it was her desire to protect her family that led to her attempt at poisoning Dietrich. She was still hunting, and Ivan knew better than to turn his back on her.

"Swear on the blood in your veins. Henceforth, you will serve our cause. Swear by the souls sent into the shadows, you will not falter. Swear of your own will, now or never, Anastasia Flamevogel," Ivan's voice reverberated through the cavern. Ivan smirked. He had groomed her well, locking onto her desire for a place to belong to like a shark onto blood. Ana will not falter now. If she hesitated, he would kill her, just as he killed his twin.

"Of my own free will, I vow by those whose blood I share, those who have gone before me. I will keep the solemn flame burning until my time comes to pass into the dark," Anastasia replied confidently. She recognized the resemblances to the oath sworn by those of the White Rose Society. She had not yet taken the oath, but had witnessed enough ceremonies. She wondered if her reply, carefully couched by the White Rose over centuries would pass scrutiny. If her reply was not what her uncle and grandfather expected, they gave no sign.

She noticed a translucent figure detach itself from the shadowy recesses. She recognized her own father, dressed in the Orden's uniform. Apparently unobserved by the others, he stood behind Fritzroy and placed a ghostly hand on the elderly Methuselah's shoulder.

"Very well, Anastasia, come forward." Fritzroy beckoned. Ana obliged and he took her by her right hand and chanted some archaic words. Ana gasped. She felt a burning sensation on her right palm. Then it was gone. The wraith of her father nodded and gave her a smile before fading back into the gloom. "Welcome to the family, Anastasia…" Fritzroy whispered and kissed her on the forehead. Ana studied her right hand. There was a slight tingling, but it was unmarked.

Dietrich observed the proceedings with a strange detachment. It reminded him of the vows he had taken himself when he first joined the Orden. Isaak had branded him on the shoulder then. It hurt like the devil. Isaak probably went out of his way to make sure it hurt. Yet, Anastasia had spoken words different from the original oath sworn to the Orden. Strange things often happen during the ceremony. Some claimed it was a deal with the Devil himself. To Dietrich, it almost seemed that someone or something had put those words into Ana's mouth. The laws of nature did not apply here. Neither did the warped laws of physics and matter of Lost Technology.

_You never learn, do you, Dietrich? There are some things that transcend death…_ A lone figure appeared out of the shadows. _Esther?_ Dietrich gasped involuntarily. She was not the frail old woman he had last seen, but appeared before him as a young woman, regal and beautiful. She gave a sad smile and faded away. Then his knees gave and he found himself crashing face-first into the slimy floor.

* * *

The hum of machinery and bustle of activity went on as usual in the Ghetto despite the pall of mourning at the Queen's death. In the Walsh family apartments, Lady Vanessa was engaged in her twice-weekly late-night fencing practice. Recently, she had been forced to simply practice with a dummy since her instructor and brother was often away. Tonight, she was not surprised when her son called on her. There have been rumours…

"He did WHAT?" Vanessa demanded of her son. Cecil cleared his throat. This was worse than he had thought. "Uncle Virgil announced in Westminster that he will resign from his post if they object to his coming engagement with the countess…and he stormed out of the session. Her late Majesty, God bless her, agreed to the match, but Westminster has overruled her decision…"

"What does the Crown Prince Gilbert say?" The coronation was due to be held after the funeral. "He's fairly distraught by his mother's death and left the running of things to His Lord Chamberlain Harold Spencer…. I say he wouldn't be giving any proper royal decrees soon, until he snaps out of his grief."

"Harold Spencer? That bigoted Methuselah-hating Inquisitor-wannabe? Cecil, tell me again why didn't we have him packed away to New Caledonia." Vanessa stabbed the dummy with her rapier. She knew why the Queen had chosen to keep Harold on the staff. He was efficient in managing the palace, so long as he was kept in line by the princes. In addition, he was a distant cousin. "I suppose we have to raise this matter with Prince Gilbert at the funeral… since Prince Albert is still on his diplomatic visit to Byzantium."

"It gets worse. Spencer has prepared the guest lists. We are invited for neither the funeral nor the coronation." Cecil deftly dodged the rapier flung in his direction. Vanessa's ensuing shriek of outrage could be heard throughout the Ghetto.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Some things never change, like Vanessa's temper.

I tried to add an eerie component into the oath-taking ceremony. Just a minor recap: The Rosenkruez Orden was a breakaway group from the White Rose Society. The secretive Society was dedicated to guardianship and passing down of knowledge (often arcane and thus frowned upon by the Vatican) for peaceful purposes. The Society also espoused co-existence. The stronghold of the White Rose is traditionally Albion, though small branches exist on the continent. The Albionian White Rose has a strict thou-shalt-hot-kill rule which Ana had violated, resulting in her being unable to be initiated. Hugue's sister, Anais, is coincidentally the Grand Mistress of the Albionian White Rose. This is mentioned in my first Star of Hope fic.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Augusta Vradica, Empress of the New Human Breed, Crusnik 03, cautiously moved through the dusty archives of the Vatican like a ghost. She would be leaving Rome in the morning, on the morning of the feast of all Saints. Her Methuselah crew were already awaiting her presence in their airship. It has to be tonight, despite her guide's recent injury and the increased patrols by the Inquisition in the streets outside. Rav's skills as a lock-picker and spy left no question as to the choice of companion on this mission. Most importantly, Rav's silence could be relied on.

The original documents should have crumbled to dust given the time that had lapsed. Rav had suggested burning the whole archives, just to be sure. Seth had turned that notion down firmly. It was the fear of upsetting the delicate balance that stopped her from retrieving those accursed files sooner. The electronic files must be isolated and removed from the system. The long-forgotten control room lay behind the shelves of dusty tomes in the deepest basement. Seth's fingers danced over the keyboard. The monitor flickered to life. Biting her lower lip, she keyed in the commands to search.

Rav stood outside the control room, daggers at the ready. He has not questioned her as to the reason for this secretive mission. Seth let out a soft sigh of relief when the matching filenames were isolated. Quickly, she started to transfer the data into a datacube to remove them from the Vatican archives. Those files should never have left the Ark or the Secret Archives of the Empire. Anastasia 'Tasha' Flamevogel had taken them secretly when she tried to bridge the chasm between Church and Empire three hundred years ago in defiance of imperial protocol. The trail ended with Tasha's brutal death and the Persecution. Tasha's Vatican allies were accused of heresy and burnt at the stake.

"FILE DELETED" the monitor flashed in blinking letters. She was too late. Someone had removed the data. She froze, unsure whether to be relieved or fearful. The data was no longer in the Vatican. Had Tasha or her allies managed to obliterate the files before the Inquisitors got to them? Or had an unknown friend or foe removed them from the system? The logs of the experiments that resulted in the creation of Seth and her siblings, the later experiments on the bacillus and the nanomachines… most importantly, Project Genesis… the one that went horribly wrong. Pale and shaken, she left the control room.

* * *

_About 1000 years ago, on Mars._

_It's so wrong!_ Seth's inner voice protested as she gazed through the reinforced glass at the subject. She knew what it was like to be a test subject, all of them did. The initial infections of the colonists by the unknown bacillus had resulted in an alarming mortality rate. Survivors were left grappling with changes to their systems. Persistent anaemia, a craving for blood, drastically altered metabolisms… Then the alien bacillus adapted to their new hosts. After the benefits were observed, the colonists were now intentionally infecting themselves and their children with the alien germ in hope of reaping the benefits of increased capabilities and longer lifespan, possibly even longer that that of the artificial humans.

Not all the transformations were successful. The waif-like specimen sitting in the isolation ward was a failed experiment. Her body had reacted by decimating her immune system, dooming her to life inside a sterile bubble. Her twin had fared better, taking on the enhanced physical capabilities of a Methuselah. Standing at her side, Cain pressed the intercom button. "Good morning, Evelyn, how are you feeling?" he greeted her in German, her native tongue.

"Fine, thank you," Evelyn replied and returned to her doodling. "Tell them I will never let them forget me." The Flamevogels discarded their stricken offspring after using her as a guinea pig. While Adam, Evelyn's twin prospered, she faded. "Tell Adam I will see him in here," she fixed her observers with a cold icy glare and tapped the side of her head. "We will never be apart."

"Her physical body may be failing but her mental capabilities…" Lillith entered the lab with Evelyn's doodles. "There have been experiments in the past to enhance psychic abilities… The human consciousness is a complex thing… Poor Eve," Lillith shot a brief gaze at the waif in their care. "Eve's infection seemed to have affected her in an unusual way." The doodles showed activities carried out by the colonists and places, things Evelyn should have no knowledge of since her five-year isolation.

"Strange things have been reported among the Flamevogels. Two of them walked out into the sun without reason. Her father and uncle, who injected her with the bacillus," Cain summarised. "The family members present, including her mother, simply stood and watched them burn. Only a few brave unrelated souls attempted a rescue. But it was too late. Somehow she is able to influence her kin."

"It's like a queen bee, or ant, isn't it?" Seth reflected. "A collective consciousness…"

"She's the cause of it, isn't she?" The trio looked up to see a tall brown-haired woman scientist in the doorway. "It's all Eve's doing, isn't it?" She held a heavy rifle. Lillith pulled Seth behind her protectively. The woman's eyes were mad. Blood spurted from a poorly-bound wound on her leg.

"Anastasia! Put that away before someone gets hurt!" Cain was on his feet in a flash. "You haven't been informed yet, Cain? My son, Adam, killed two of your men trying to free that creature. He even turned on me!" Anastasia laughed bitterly. "I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago. A mother will do anything to protect her children…" The rifle gleamed dangerously. Cain saw an opening and moved. He was a split second too late. There was an enormous boom. Blood was everywhere. Seth recalled screaming. Lillith was bending over Cain, trying to stem the massive loss of blood.

Anastasia entered the sterile ward and locked the door behind her. Seth rushed to the window and switched on the intercom. Her voice refused to come. She had to watch the terrible drama play to its end. The mother stood, her firearm trained on her daughter. Evelyn looked past the barrel staring at her. "Don't worry, Seth. I wouldn't die so easily… You know that, don't you?" The rest of her words were drowned in an explosion of blood and brain matter. "Forgive me, Eve," Eve's executioner murmured. Another explosion announced the end of Evelyn's mother.

* * *

Seth only found out the true extent of the so-called failed experiment afterwards. Abel had played no part in the Genesis venture. Lillith may have been a part of it in her misguided hope of finding some way to overcome the hypersensitivity to sunlight and silver that afflicted all Methuselahs. If the bacillus unlocked latent physical abilities, could it unleash hidden psychic abilities or more? She knew Eve or whatever it was, lived. She had forced the mindset of atheism on her children for that purpose. If they do not acknowledge the spiritual realm, they would not venture out into the uncharted waters. Yet some had strayed into those dark shadows.

Two households in particular had troubled her, the Flamevogels and the von Kampfers. Their forebears were heavily involved in Genesis, often participating as test subjects. For the most part, their intentions were peaceful. The later von Kampfers dabbled in the occult and were exiled as a result. Only one of that household was known to be alive. Isaak von Kampfer was probably still heeding the orders of her now-deranged brother.

The Flamevogels were another matter. They were highly inbred with cousin marrying cousin. A court saying in the early days of the empire claimed that if one of the clan sneezed, the rest would reach for their handkerchiefs, never mind if they were miles apart. In certain Flamevogels, she seemed to see the terrible shades of Eve or her mother. Or Adam, the young man she loved a long time ago but was never his own person.

"_If you want to save him, use the nanomachines," Adam suggested to her as they stood outside Cain's ward after Eve's death. "How did you know of those things?" Only a handful knew of the nanomachines they discovered. They were too unpredictable. "Eve told me. She saw Mother working with them," The brown-haired boy smiled mysteriously. "They're still with me… didn't really die…" _

"_What do you mean, Adam?" the young man had a wild look in his eyes. _

"_We are one and the same, tied by the same blood, Seth. You don't have a real family, so I don't think you will understand." _

The passing on of a wealth of knowledge, sharing of experiences and information, not simply over vast distances, but over generations within a family bound by blood, was that the true goal behind the Flamevogels' project? Adam's mother was rumoured to be a direct descendent of a celebrated psychic. Had her children been selected for that reason? With time, could they have replaced the Crusniks as leaders of the Methuselahs? Adam had spent the reminder of his life working on the project…

Cain had suspected the potential danger and tried to eliminate them, but a handful of the Flamevogels survived. Seth suspected that the Duchess of Muscov, Sasha Flamevogel, did not kill her sons when the Yeniceri tried to take them into custody in the aftermath of Suleyman's treason was believed. An explosion killed five of the Yeniceri and levelled the Flamevogel mansion, but the boys must have lived. Anastasia Flamevogel, Esther's grandchild, was without a doubt, the spawn of one of those boys. She wondered if Eve's malevolent spirit hovered over the youngster.

"Rav, do you believe in the existence of the soul?" The question simply popped out of her mouth. They were resting in a hansom cab on their way to the airfield. "With all due respect, Augusta, my religion acknowledges the existence of a soul. My father says I have a soul, even if the Vatican says vampires have none," Rav replied with conviction. She had forgotten that Rav was raised by a Terran father after losing her mother. Rav would tarry in the Holy City for a while longer with Asta, at least until things settled. "The little redhead novice is missing. Maybe Father Ivan killed her."

_It might be the other way round._ This latest piece of news made Seth uneasy. "Do be careful, Ravenchild. No rash moves."

* * *

""Father Hugue was still a bit groggy from whatever they put into him. Sister Anais is staying with him for now," Father Peter announced to his mentor as he inspected the tea table. The occupants had left in a hurry. The teapot was full of cool tea and a half-eaten scone lay on the carpet. Carmen took visual scans of the abandoned guesthouse. "No items of male clothing found so far. Only a couple of habits and girls' clothing. There are some long blond hairs on the pillow in the second bedroom upstairs. Peter, please help me take a sample. The Professor's knees are a bit stiff today."

"Right!" Peter made his way upstairs.

Father William nodded his head and got up stiffly from where he had been analyzing a swab taken from the half-eaten scone with his handheld analyzer. "Methuselah. Whoever was eating this scone was a Methuselah. The composition of proteins in their saliva is slightly different from ours…"

Peter returned with the hair samples and started down the stairs. "Peter, you didn't use your gloves!" Carmen exclaimed. "Sorry, forgot to wear them on the way out," Peter apologized sheepishly and stopped about midway down the steps.

"You compromised the evidence," Carmen rebuked. "Now, now, no need to get flustered…" the Professor tried to coax the easily excitable Carmen.

Isaak knew something was wrong when he stepped out of the shadows into Dietrich's room. Firstly, his protégé was not there, pale-faced and weary from Lorelei's feeding. Secondly, the voices coming from downstairs sound oddly familiar. One was a female voice, shrill with indignation. The other was a deep, mellow voice with a crisp Albionian accent. The third voice was unfamiliar to him. Readying himself, he stepped out of the room into the stair landing…

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

College reunion on the cards? I think not. There are some things that I am trying to tie in here. Will Seth come clean with Abel on how special the Flamevogels are?


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

More Dietrich-torture here. And an unlikely rescuer.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Carmen halted in mid-rebuke, her eyes wide in fear. "Peter! Watch out!" The warning came too late. The younger priest tumbled down the stairs, blood spurting from his legs where he had been sliced into by the Panzer Magier's shadowy monofibres. "Isaak!" Carmen spat and glared at the man standing at the top of the stairs. William stooped over the limp form of his student, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. Father Peter was rapidly going into shock. The holographic Carmen re-appeared next to the Professor, crouching over her fallen colleague. Already, Peter's blood was soaking into the carpeting despite William's best efforts.

"What a cosy sight. The years have been kind to you, my old friends… I had expected to send flowers to your grave by this time," Isaak smirked as he walked down the stairs. Carmen glared daggers at him. However, as Isaak was not touching, or going to touch any metal items she could use to retaliate with a static electric attack. Moreover, that particular attack was only designed to give a slight jolt. Father William was stoic. He kept his eyes on his one-time college-mate even as he tied a crude bandage around Peter's wounds.

"I trust this is not a social call. What do you intend to do, Isaak?" William asked. He pulled his wounded student closer to him. Carmen was calling Peter's name, trying to keep him from falling into unconsciousness. "This was a social call until I find you trespassing. Where are my comrades?" Isaak almost choked on the last word. Ivan was more an enemy than a comrade to him. Lorelei was simply an annoying brat… but Dietrich…

"Well, that's what we are trying to figure out here, Isaak," the older priest replied in an almost cordial manner. "I don't suppose they were considerate enough to leave you a note?"

Isaak sputtered momentarily before he managed to compose himself. "Then I suppose I must bid you farewell, old friend…" he waved his hand, summoning his shadow minions.

"Herr Isaak Fernand von Kampfer. I would advise you leave peacefully," Eris' voice sliced the tension like a knife. The abbess strolled into the guesthouse. With her was Tres. William made use of the momentary distraction to drag Peter over to the door. Carmen had gone from the guesthouse. They must get medical attention for Peter as soon as possible.

"If it isn't little Eris. Interfering again, little witch?" Isaak smirked. He had first met Eris when she was a child. Dietrich objected vehemently to the idea of including another Terran and a child in the Orden, so they dumped her on the Fluer de Mal. It was a costly mistake on their part. He could sense her consciousness subtle probing at the edges of his mind. She has had the benefit of her years to hone the talent she possessed back then.

"Herr Kampfer, we do not wish to cause any unfortunate incidents. Call your minions off, or else," Eris' tone brooked no opposition. She was every bit as formidable as her predecessor, perhaps more formidable, if pushed. As a reply, he traced an obscure pattern in mid-air. The misshapen shadow minions closed in.

"NOW!" Eris cried out the order. Tres chucked what appeared to be a flash-bang grenade in front of Isaak. There was a boom, smoke and an instantaneous flash that lit up the room. When the first rays of light hit Isaak, he felt searing pain. The grenade was designed to discharge the UV light dreaded by vampires. He hurriedly summoned his shadows to form a shield against the UV light. Under the cover of light and smoke, Tres scooped up the injured Peter and they fled. When the light faded, Isaak found his quarry had gone. A screech of car tyres sounded as the abbess and priests made a speedy beeline for the hospital.

* * *

"_The body is failing. See, the scar tissue is starting to show as the artificial skin disintegrates. He has lasted a good bit longer than expected, maybe a year as an invalid but no more… I guess it is time to ditch Isaak's silly little toy…" _

The Pilot's words taunted him as he struggled up the steps. The others have left him behind in the catacombs, but Dietrich would prove them wrong… His limbs felt like lead. It was pitch dark and he could hardly feel anything. Red eyes glared out from the darkness, watching him. Rats. There must be millions of them.

"_The dead should stay dead, grandfather…" _Ana's mocking voice rang in his mind. Dietrich had overheard a whispered conversation between Ivan and Fritzroy as he drifted on the edge of consciousness. Ana was not just a simple little girl. He must get this bit of information to Isaak…

"_She is starting to be taken over by the Personality. I thought it was a failure."_

"_Patience, lad. You need to have patience. Our womenfolk, unlike us, they only start to develop the Personality after turning… Ana's development has gone faster than expected. She reacts exceptionally well to the Star. However, she still retains a bit of her own person…"_

"_With the proper encouragement in the Orden, we can stifle that goody-two-shoes part of her character. Pity her father didn't see the benefits…"_

"_Unlike Lorelei, her character can't be crafted… Too old… in addition, we mustn't interfere with the assimilation…"_

Dietrich cursed weakly as his foot stumbled. Moonlight illuminated the steps. For the first time in a long while, he actually thanked God there was a moon out. He was out of the catacombs. Isaak would be waiting at the guesthouse… He had to cross the bridge…. A vile taste filled his mouth. Weakly, he leaned over the side of the bridge and vomited a dark, vile slime into the canal below. He felt light-headed. Overbalancing, he fell over the railings and into the river with a dull splash.

He smiled bitterly as the waters closed over him. This was death, his second death. Dressed in a nun's habit with the moon shining down on a watery grave, Dietrich von Lohengrin was going to die again.

Father Abel Nightroad was feeling a little perturbed by the turn of events as he walked along the canal. A splash jolted him out of his thoughts. He could see a flash of white skirt shimmering in the inky water. Someone had definitely fallen in. With no one else in the vicinity, Abel hurriedly discarded his heavy cloak, boots and firearm before making a dive into the canal to rescue the victim.

"Miss, are you alright?" Dripping water, Abel supported the bedraggled figure he had pulled from the canal a few moments earlier. Kneeling by the canal, the nun coughed and retched into the water, her brown hair falling over her face. "You…" Dietrich croaked in reply. The words wouldn't come. He faced his rescuer and almost fell back into the water. Abel blinked in bewilderment. Then a wave of anger rushed through him when he recognized Dietrich.

"You! Where's Ana?" he seized Dietrich by the shoulders and shook him hard. Terrified, Dietrich tried to reach for his wires, but his hands refused to move. "I don't know!" he spat and tried to lash out. The effort proved too much for him. His knees gave way and he blacked out.

"Hey!" The white-haired priest caught the Marionettespieller before he fell into the water. The young man felt icy-cold.

* * *

"Hi, my name is Lorelei," the blond girl sitting on the velvet couch next to Ana introduced herself in German. "What's yours?"

"Anastasia," Ana replied. After leaving Dietrich in the catacombs, she and Lorelei were taken to a room that did not exist in the material world. Grandpa Fritzroy had explained that opulently-decorated room existed only within his power. The scene outside its French windows changed constantly. It started with a winter scene. Then it changed to a flame-coloured autumn forest. Now it was an ocean scene. A gilded toy carousel on the carpet spun and played a soothing melody. The colours of the couch they sat on changed constantly. Mauve, pink, lavender…

"Grandpa Fritz says he will let us out later," Lorelei kicked her feet in boredom. "Here, we wouldn't feel hungry, thirsty or even need to use the bathroom. I wish Scher's here though. She tells the best stories. I miss her… What are you doing?"

"Trying to find the door," Anastasia felt the oaken panels of the room methodically. She found no sign of any exit. That guiding voice from the Star was eerily silent ever since the ceremony earlier. They were trapped in a glided cage.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Ion is going to be a brat in this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 17**

"How's the patient?" Ion asked. William puffed idly at his pipe. "Peter is doing fine after his transfusion," the professor replied. "He meant the other patient," Abel clarified. His eyes narrowed even as he observed the patient through the open doorway. "Ion, please put away your sword. He's not a threat in his condition."

With a sigh of disappointment, the count slid his sword back into its sheath. "When can we start interrogation?" Abel did not like the malicious glint that flashed in the count's eyes.

"Eris is working on it," William nodded. "You may go join them… oh, here she comes…" An ashen-faced Eris emerged from the bedroom where they had placed their patient. She was leaning heavily on Thomas. _Not a good sign._

"Father Abel, have I ever thanked you for saving me from those vampires when you did?" the abbess clasped her trembling hands together as if in prayer.

"About a million times… why? Oh no, you didn't…" Abel exclaimed. The abbess nodded. "A mind-search was the only way in his condition… God help us sinners…" Eris accepted the whisky flask Thomas offered her and took a generous gulp of its contents. A mind-search always taxed her at the best of times. It was a risky venture, especially if you were dealing with a potential mage like Isaak or his comrades. "No leads on Ana though," she added distractedly.

The patient was still unconscious, hooked up to various machines, most of which had been rustled up from the Professor's lab. He was clad in a suit of Thomas' pyjamas. Getting him into a hospital was out of the question, especially after they found out his heart rate was tenth that of a normal Terran, even lower than that of a Methuselah. The last time Dietrich needed was for the Inquisition to collar him for being a vampire and putting a stake through his heart. The Professor took note of the readings off his machines. "Vital signs low. He's breathing on the ventilator. Count, please keep pointy objects away from his breathing tube or any other life support apparatus."

Abel groaned as Ion muttered angry curses in Imperial. The count had been trying to saw through the tube with his sword. Methuselahs had a propensity for holding grudges for a very long time. "We need more facilities than these to cope with his unusual condition…" the Professor gingerly peeled back the bedclothes to reveal the stained bandages around his chest. "His chest is… well..." The Professor struggled for the correct words. "Disintegrating," he shrugged.

"I had Faith try earlier this morning, but her healing powers doesn't appear to work. He was experimented on," Eris whispered from the doorway. "They abandoned him because it was a failure."

"Is he an artificial vampire?" Abel blinked. He had encountered many such cases in his long career, the Neverland children, Hugue's sister…

"Not quite. We have no idea what exactly he is. It will need further study… Actually, Sister Anais offered a discreet Albionian facility. The problem is sneaking him over… What do you think?"

"Unhook him from life-support and bury him under the rose bushes," Ion suggested tartly from the corner where he had stalked off to. The abbess and priest ignored him. "If it will save his life, send him over. Tonight if possible. I will make the necessary arrangements with Carmen," Eris said firmly. "One more thing. I gleaned some hints about a plot on the Pope. They would be making the attempt at the first opportunity since their cover has been blown. Sorry I couldn't probe further…" She took another sip of whisky.

"What? Cardinal Niall's Papal guard will be on full alert after Isaak's attack…" Abel exclaimed. "Surely with the both the Inquisition and the Guard…"

"They have a trump card! Remember what Brother Petros told us last night? The child!" Ion slapped his thigh. Thomas gasped.

"What child?" Abel's heart sank. They had overlooked the crucial part. Why had the Orden taken the trouble to introduce a Methuselah child to Cardinal Benedictia as her daughter? A serious look came to Ion's face.

"Aural hypnosis. She generates illusions through her voice. If that is her power… not even the Guard could guard against it… If the Pope is killed by one of us, his own guards or cardinals…" Ion paused. The implications were clear. Rome would be thrown into chaos. The Church might split apart or even collapse. Without a spiritual leader, wars would erupt as various factions fought for political power. The Empire might be pulled into the ensuing whirlpool. Even Albion, with her long tradition of neutrality, would be sucked in.

"I may have a classical solution to that. The challenge will be getting everyone's cooperation," Father William puffed on his pipe thoughtfully. There was much work to be done.

* * *

"Rav?" Asta queried when she stepped out of the bathroom. Her tovarisch was staring intently at an array of cards on the table, deep in thought. It bothered her that in the years they had been partners, Rav kept that invisible barrier up with her. He was one to be relied on in a fight, smart too. She rubbed her damp hair vigorously with a fluffy towel. Rav was reading his tarot cards. He often did that when he was troubled. She supposed he gave tarot readings when he was on the road disguised as a gypsy fortune-teller. 

"Are you going to do a reading for me?" she teased before broaching the subject she had been trying to raise since the Empress left. "Admit it, Rav. You stormed here in a fit of pique thanks to the Duke of Belarus' words at that house party. Who cares which side of the Fortuna tree you are from? Or whether your father's Terran? You have proven your worth countless times. Now what do you say we catch the next night flight out." Abel could look for his missing charge without Rav's help.

"Not yet. I want to attend the Mass tonight, the Mass of All Souls…" he sounded distracted. He flipped over the first card. "The Pope. His Holiness will be presiding over the Mass." The next card was flipped over. "The Tower of Babel. Chaos…" he mused and flipped over another card. "The Moon… the subconscious mind," he whispered and drew another card from the deck. Lady Asran shrugged. Her partner was impossible when he got into one of his moods. She would go to the Mass too. With luck, she might corner Abel there and get the feuding Fortunas to agree to a peaceful solution.

"Queen of Swords, clarity of thought," Rav held up the last card. "Whatever happens, keep a clear mind." Asta snorted. "You definitely need that, Rav! If Ion had the slightest inclination of taking over the Duchess of Moldova's mantle, he wouldn't have spent fifty years gallivanting about Outside, with a priest!" A vein popped in her brow. Abel had some nerve thinking he could commandeer her one-time partner. But then it was Ion's decision, wasn't it? Irresponsible as it was.

"In the end, it's chance…" Rav had drawn the Wheel of Fortune card.

* * *

"Come on, Lorelei, show time!" Father Ivan materialized in the room in front of the girls. Lorelei smiled and ran up to give him a hug. "How's my dear niece?" he smirked. Ana stood up from the couch. "What do you intend to do?" she asked. 

"Nothing much, I thought we'll kill the Pope, maybe start a few wars…" Ivan took Lorelei's hand and walked out of the French windows, which opened of their own accord. The pair appeared to be stepping out onto a night-time courtyard. This was her chance and she grabbed it. She ran after the pair, but she was too late. The courtyard, Ivan and Lorelei vanished. Instead, she was faced with a wall of fire. She hesitated.

"Be patient, my little one," Grandfather Fritzroy's voice drifted in. The flames seemed to grow in intensity at those words. Strangely, they were cool to her touch. An illusion, she decided and leapt headlong into the wall of fire. It was a mistake.

"NO!" the Pilot screamed. His granddaughter stepped out of the safety of his artificial dimension and into the dark wilderness of that created by Father Ivan. As she expected, she didn't burn. However, the fall was unexpected. Darkness engulfed her. She screamed silently. There was another voice calling her name, one had heard only once before. _She was flying, wasn't she? Flamevogel. Bird of Flame …_ She fancied she saw flaming wings before she blacked out. Somehow, she knew she was safe.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

I'm playing up on Rav's supposed gypsy heritage here. Actually, I have only a vague idea of what the cards represent. For the interpretations of the Moon, the Wheel of Fortune, the Queen of Swords and the Tower, I took them mostly from Wikipedia. The Pope card's meaning is not mentioned by Rav. It probably represents the link between the divine and the earthly, but Rav doesn't allude to its meaning.

Action's going to pick up speed, hopefully…


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 18**

"I thought we were transporting Peter to Albion for surgery on his tendons," Carmen de Asturias grumbled even as her systems prepared for the long flight. There was a high wind coming in off the Mediterranean. "I've flooded the Inquisition's lines with bogus reports of vampire-pirate attacks off the Portuguese coast and off the Bahamas. Avignon despatched the lot to patrol the north Atlantic. We will not have those dogs poking their noses anywhere near His Holiness," she reported.

"Officially, that is the purpose of this flight. Peter's tendons escaped injury. I have persuaded Cardinal Niall and his men to be on high alert, and to imitate Ulysses for the defence against a siren," the Albionian smiled. "You had the Papal guards' ears stuffed with beeswax?" Carmen asked incredulously. "If Niall feels you are making a fool of him, old geezer or not, he'll throttle you like a Christmas goose."

"Not quite beeswax, only my very own tried and tested earplugs. And His Holiness will be wearing a little extra tonight, a lightweight Kelvar vest. In case someone takes a pot-shot."

"You told him his life is in danger? He'll be a nervous wreck."

"Nope. I had Cardinal Niall introduce it as a new security measure. Standard procedures and stuff for big events. His Sanctity wouldn't suspect anything amiss. Sister Anais and Father Hugue should be on the seven o'clock train to Calais at this hour."

The rest would be up to Eris and the others. Their mission was to get their patient to Albion. Carmen stopped the soft piano music she had been playing in the cabin of the Iron Maiden. It was one of Peter's favourite tracks. Instead she popped on a lively Spanish salsa number. The Professor winced at the sound of frenzied guitar-strumming and clapping castanets. Maybe he should have kept a pair of earplugs for himself.

The pale figure on the stretcher stirred slightly and slowly opened his eyes. The first thought that came to Dietrich was that he had been captured and was in an Inquisition prison. He soon realized he was wrong. Dungeons weren't usually so bright. He focused his eyes. A priest, he knew he had seen him before, but the name slipped him. The beautiful young lady in the black habit was a stranger to him. She was a hologram. He tried to speak but couldn't. A tube was running down his throat. He fought to control his growing fear. _Was he in a hospital?_

He had drifted in and out of awareness since his encounter at the canal. Slowly, his mind fitted the pieces together. Eris, that little girl who almost joined the Orden so long ago. She had carried out a mind-search on him when he was too weak to keep her out. That means they probably knew the Orden had turned its back on him. The betrayal hit hard. _Where was Isaak?_ Surely his mentor… _wouldn't miss him one bit… _A cold voice mocked inside.

"How are you feeling? Don't talk, just squeeze." The priest held his hand. Immediately, Dietrich tried to reach for his wires. Nothing. He could barely manage a weak squeeze. The effort drained him. He did not see an odd pool of shadow forming behind the priest…

* * *

"Anastasia, Ana, sleep no more…" 

Ana blinked her eyes. A desolate sight greeted her. Bones glimmered in the faint light cast by a single lamp, human skulls. It was so dark, so very dark. She curled up and gave a frightened squeak. "Ana!" the voice was more commanding now. The lamp-bearer was clad in an Orden uniform. His eyes were an intense blue like glacial ice.

"Uncle Ivan?" Ana ventured cautiously. "Don't you recognize me, my precious one?" It was her father, Dimitri Flamevogel or his ghost. He made no attempt to touch her. There was no need to. His reassuring smile was comfort enough.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"In the bone-yard that is part of the common subconscious of our family. You must find your own way out, Ana. I can't linger here too long."

"How?" she asked. Her father was fading, as was his voice. "Believe in yourself, not the other. Think of who's your Light, Ana. Think of that person. This lamp of mine, it was lit by your mother…" Her father was gone.

"Cecil. Uncle Cecil." Ana pictured Cecil, his graceful gait, his easy smile and sharp wit. "I love him," she added. It was indistinct at first, just a faint glimmer of light. Then it condensed into a candle's flame, faint and flickering. "I want to find my way out. I have to stop them from killing the Pope," she declared to the dark shadows. She seized the candlestick that had materialized in mid-air and slid down a pile of bones. A door appeared at the foot of the pile. She seized the handle.

"Cecil Walsh… Love him… as an uncle," her father's voice whispered beside her ear. There was a slight hint of sadness in it. "You are still very young, my child. You'll face many trials ahead. Always remember, you are precious to both your mother and me…"

_Ana, don't go… let me show you some things. Interesting things…_ a cloying sweet voice wheedled. _Haven't you always trusted me before?_ It was the Star's voice. She faltered. She saw a young girl in a ragged dress, reaching out for her hand. _I'm you…_

"Ana! Go! Do what you have to do!" another voice called out stridently. A brown-haired woman materialized behind the girl. _Tasha._ Ana recalled the vision she had witnessed. Her ancestress grabbed the wraith, pulling her shrieking back into the shadows. "Ana is Ana! Now go! Trust yourself!" Ana pushed her weight against the heavy door. Finally, it gave…

Ana found herself lying on the pavement outside the Basilica of St Peter. A curious cat stared as she rose to her feet. The candlestick was gone. Night had fallen. The voices of the choir could be heard. Mass was starting. It was to be held in the Square of St Peter to accommodate the large numbers of faithful expected. The congregation was starting to gather. Lorelei and her uncle could be anywhere in the thronging crowd.

_Where could the AX members be?

* * *

_

"Filthy Terrans!" Lady Astaroshe Asran cursed in Imperial when she accidentally trod on a stinking lump of manure on the square. Abel was nowhere in sight. Ravenchild had insisted they attend incognito and the duchess was obliged to discard her stylish garments for a long, dowdy-looking dress and shawl. She still carried her spear at her waist.

"Use Latin please, tovarisch," Ravenchild urged in a whisper. The conspicuous absence of the Inquisition and increased alertness of the Papal guards did not escape the count. Something was afoot. Asta nodded. Her tovarisch was dressed in a simple shirt, vest and breeches. "Hide your hair," he added in a whisper.

"Why?" Asta scowled. The wool dress was starting to itch. Grey was never her colour to start with. She preferred a stylish black leather overcoat anytime.

"Know of any other lady with that distinctive red streak?" Ravenchild rolled his eyes. _Were all Imperial nobles so dense? _

Grumbling, Asta pulled up the shawl to cover her hair. Behind the deceptively nonchalant manner, Ravenchild was as edgy as a cat on hot coals. His caution was not misplaced.

* * *

From a nearby tower overlooking the square, Ivan Flamevogel smirked. He had been scanning the congregation through his binoculars for an opportunity and he had found it. The Imperial Ambassador at large was in the congregation. Lorelei played with a doll at Ivan's feet, waiting for his instructions. _It was time to play,_ Ivan mused. 

"Grandfather!" Lorelei squealed in delight when the elderly Methuselah stepped out of the shadows. "Pilot?" Ivan spluttered. He was not expecting this. The Pilot was pale. "We have lost the Star."

"What! Then all's lost…" Everything they had worked for so long was in tatters.

"Just get on with killing the Pope first. We'll find her later…" Fritzroy patted Ivan on the shoulder, a rare gesture of familiarity which made Ivan flinch. "Ready, my little angel?" he turned to Lorelei. The blond girl nodded.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Expect trouble for AX.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Isaak's coming for Dietrich.

* * *

**Chapter 19**

"Professor, duck!" Carmen's warning cry reached him in time for him to evade the monofibres which sliced into the ship's skin behind him. "Isaak!" he hissed as he tried to fend off an attacking shadow minion with his sturdy cane. Carmen tried to send out an alarm to the others. Instead of raising Tres or other reinforcements, she let out a cry of pain and held her head in her hands.

"I-inter-ference…" she gasped in pain from the shock of having a electrical overload on her system. They were on their own. Isaak smirked.

"Isaak, what do you want?!" Carmen shrieked. He ignored her. Instead, he let his gaze rest momentarily on the limp figure on the stretcher. The brat looked awful.

"You have something that belongs to me, Willie…" Isaak spoke almost casually. "And I want it back." Another shadow minion slipped past the Professor's defence and ripped into his knee. With a scream, the aged priest went down like a sack of potatoes.

"And you know I'll not talking about that final year project data," he yanked the Professor up by his collar. "Isaak…" Understanding dawned on the priest. "He'll die if you move him in his condition."

Dietrich was dimly aware of the commotion. He fought against the blackness threatening to overwhelm him. With a superhuman effort he managed to raise his head. The movement encouraged Isaak.

"That's for me to decide, isn't it, Willie?" he purred. Monofibres sliced into the flesh and bone of his victim's chest. "PROFESSOR!" Carmen shrieked. Isaak let the man fall to the ground in a puddle of blood. "Goodnight, old friend."

He nonchalantly strolled to the controls and plugged in a data cube despite Carmen's futile attempts to stop him. "Goodbye, Carmen. I assure you I will cherish the memory of our short-lived affair in Barcelona."

'DESTRUCTION SEQUENCE ACTIVATED' the screen blinked. "No…" the Professor coughed blood from his damaged lungs. Carmen flickered then disappeared completely. Miles away in the Ghetto hospital, the alarm went off in the nurses' station. Long-time coma patient Carmen de Asturias was going into cardiac arrest.

"Isaak…" Dietrich yanked the breathing tube out of his throat. Isaak non-too-gently lifted him in his arms. Small explosions rocked the dying airship. Isaak muttered a spell and the shadows surrounded them, teleporting them to safety.

* * *

"_Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world…"_ the choir stood and began to sing in angelic harmony. Ravenchild sensed his tovarisch tensing beside him. There was a distant cast in Astaroshe's eyes. She forced her way single-mindedly through the crowd like one possessed. _"Have mercy…"_

"Asta! What's gotten into you?" Rav had to fight to catch up. The Duchess was making a beeline for the Pope. There was no expression on her face was one of rage. _"Lamb of God, you take away…"_ Lorelei sang along with the choir, reaching out into the Duchess' mind with her song while trying to lull the guards into a false sense of security. The Pilot and Shadowmaster watched with glee. They did not notice the inconspicuous figure tagging close behind the duchess.

_Chained with silver, Viscount Reniya stood before her, a hostage. Mocking her, the impudent swine Endres held a silver blade to his throat. _She must act.

"Abel! Look!" Ion cried out when his keen eyes noted the sudden flash of movement in the crowd. He then remembered they were all wearing earplugs. He gripped his partner's sleeve and pointed. Together, they rushed down from the balcony where they were stationed. Cardinal Niall's men had noticed the disturbance. Despite their earplugs, they were still a highly trained lot and were closing in on the Methuselahs.

"Mother of God," Rav allowed himself a curse. Asta was reaching for her spear. _She'll kill the Pope! Or get us all killed. _Now he saw the guards closing in. They were still too far away, hampered by the crowds of faithful.

"ASTA!" Abel recognized the duchess as the shawl slipped off her head. She did not acknowledge him. Instead she extended her spear to its full length, its deadly tip glowing and pointed straight at the Pope. In deathly silence, the guards raised their weapons but they were still too far…

* * *

Mother Eris sighed as she waited outside the office of Cardinal Benedictia. There would be an inquiry into the matter of Father Ivan and his mysterious young ward. They could only hope the incident would not destroy the cardinal's career. She looked out the window in the direction of the airfield. Immediately, a feeling of unease washed over her. _Was that a faint glow?_ It was impossible. The airfield could not be seen from here. She reached out to William's consciousness. The mental image hit her hard. _Blood and flames everywhere…_

"Tres," she clutched at the sill to keep from falling down. The android cocked his head, waiting her instruction. "Please alert the medics and the fire department. Time is of the essence."

"Proceed with rescue?" Tres queried. His primary duty these days was to protect the leader of AX.

"Yes." With a sickening feeling, Eris wondered if they were too late.

* * *

_She must get help for the Professor before he succumbs to his injuries… maybe she was already too late… Where was she?_ Carmen fought to understand what was happening to her. Darkness enveloped her completely. No reassuring data from the airship. No seriously wounded priest. There was a distant sound like thunder.

"Help, anyone…" Carmen fell to her knees, coughing. It was like walking in a thick fog. "_How many miles to Babylon? Three score miles and ten…"_ a young girl's voice sang. It dawned on her that she looking at a foggy childhood memory of herself as a child with her father, Leon. _Great, I'm dying and watching my life flash before my eyes._ She was a child again, playing on a swing under the summer sky. So this was what it feels like to die. It was strangely peaceful.

"Tea?" Sister Kate called out to them just as her father helped her off the swing. She sat at a table set with an English tea spread. Her father was dressed as a priest. This was wrong. Her father wasn't with AX back then. She hadn't met Kate yet… _And shouldn't Kate be a hologram?_ Sister Kate dropped a sugar cube into her tea cup and stirred.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" she asked. The notion of heaven being a summer picnic sounded ludicrous. Then she remembered William. "I must get help for Father William! He's badly hurt! I can't be dead!"

"No, it isn't your time yet, Carmen," Leon chuckled. Kate nodded in agreement. "Everything will be alright, I promise. Go on," he coaxed. Carmen stepped out into a swirling fog...

"Clear! She's coming back!" Carmen blinked. Harsh lights almost blinded her. Strange faces bent over her. Carmen's heart leapt back to life much to the doctors' amazement. "Doc, I think she's coming outta her coma!" A thickly-accented voice exclaimed.

"What happened?" Carmen felt weak and weary. She actually felt her muscles aching. She knew she had awoken from her long coma. She's in Albion… _How's William? _

"I've never seen anything like this. Call Sir Cecil…" a doctor ordered.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

Dietrich and Isaak's back together. Too bad on William though. And Alessandro's gonna get killed by Asta? AX has lost their airship.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters. .

* * *

**Chapter 20**

He was going to watch his friend kill the Pope and, or, get killed by the Papal guards. Abel sprinted towards the Methuselah. Suddenly there was a blur of movement, followed by a resounding splash and screams of agony that finally got the attention of the Pope and the rest of the congregation. _Asta fell in the fountain?_ Abel started. Ion caught up with him. The water churned about as if stirred up by frenzied piranha. The spear discharged its deadly bolt harmlessly into the sky.

"Astaroshe Asran! Snap out of it!" Choking on the burning silver-laced water, Rav fought to restrain his larger colleague. He had braced himself for the shock of hitting the water when he threw himself bodily at the duchess, knocking them both into the conveniently-near fountain. He had acted quickly.

"This way, please!" Abel hastily shepherded the stunned onlookers away. Someone had knocked Asta into the water, and with luck, the silver in the fountain would weaken her sufficiently to be safely taken into custody. Niall's men had ushered the Pope to safety, ignoring his request to complete the Mass. They would have to worry about any fallout later.

"ENDRES! DIE!" Asta cursed and clawed Rav fiercely. Rav hissed as the silver-laced water entered his wounds. Asta was in some sort of trance. He failed to pry the spear from her grasp as they floundered about in the water. The spear's tip began to glow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guards closing in.

Noticing the commotion, Ana pushed forward to the fountain. "Ion! Father Abel!" The pair did not hear or see her. Instead, she heard a solitary voice singing. The choir had stopped their hymn when the Pope was unceremoniously bundled to safety but this voice soldiered on. She looked about for its source. _Lorelei._ She recognized the singer standing in a tower window. Behind her was Ivan.

"Ana?" Abel gasped in surprise as the girl ran past him, seizing the gun from his holster as she passed. Without pausing, Asta almost flew in the direction of the tower and Ivan. "ANA!" Abel yelled and started after her, tripped and fell to the cobblestones with a resounding crash, stunning himself. Ion obliviously watched the ongoing struggle in the fountain.

"Lord, our lives are in Your hands…" Rav prayed and released his tovarisch, plunging his bleeding arms into the water. _If this gamble failed…_ The water rose up from the fountain and froze in a protective shield, trapping them within. Inside the crystalline globe, icy tentacles held Asta fast. Rav hurriedly wrenched the weapon from her with the last reserve of his strength. The spear discharged into the air, shattering their icy tomb before Rav collapsed. Asta continued to scream and curse, fighting against her bonds.

* * *

Ana bounded up the stairs. "Stop!" On reaching the top of the tower, she pulled the gun on the Methuselahs. Lorelei stopped in mid-note. With a squeak, she held onto Ivan. Ivan looked on with a bored expression. "Ana, you are just like your father… and regrettably you will pay the price."

Ana screamed as her wrist was roughly grabbed from behind and snapped. The gun dropped onto the wooden floor. "This more than makes up for our failure to kill the Pope. Look at me, Anastasia…" Fritzroy purred and forced her to look into his eyes. Ana fought hard. He probed mercilessly into her mind.

_Let me help you, Ana…_ the Star's voice purred._ No, _Ana shook her head. _Ana is Ana…_ She could fight this on her own terms. Without the Star's interference, she was powerless to stop him. Finally, she crumpled into his arms. "Good girl," Fritzroy stroked her hair gently.

"You altered her memories?" Ivan asked.

Fritzroy shrugged. "Maybe. We will know when she wakes up. She's fighting its influence though. Maybe she'll be another Star…" He touched the Star medallion that hung around her neck. "She might betray us someday though… like her father…"

* * *

"What h-happened?" Astaroshe finally ceased her struggling. She appeared dazed. Ion yanked the earplugs out of his ears and motioned for the guards nearest him to do the same. "Lady Asran, do you recall anything?" he asked gently. The duchess shook her head as if to clear it. The ice binding her had turned to slush. Ion then noticed Ravenchild lying face-down in the water. Blood swirled about him. Ion cautiously reached out to pull him out.

"Don't touch me!" Rav slapped his hands aside and hauled himself out of the icy water. Those deep scratches bloody hurt. He shoved Ion hard that the blond Methuselah stumbled backwards.

"I was only trying to help!" Ion growled. He would have fallen smack on his bottom if not for Thomas O'Cleary. The priest-in-training caught Ion deftly before yanking out his own earplugs. "Family problems, Count?" Ion ignored Thomas' dig.

"Drown me more likely," Rav retorted. He grabbed the cloak offered to him by Thomas. Ravenchild bundled himself in the cloak, dripping both blood and ice-water.

"We don't drown," Ion muttered under his breath. He helped Asta out of the fountain from the pile of ice she was perched on. "I saw Endres… holding a sword to Reniya's throat… I don't know what got into me… Endres' long dead and so's Reniya…" the duchess murmured. Out of the silver-laced water, their wounds should heal soon. Rav was in worse shape from the silver that had entered his bloodstream. Ion could see the strain on his face despite his decidedly chevalier attitude.

"Say, what's with him?" Thomas prodded the limp form of Abel with a foot. Ion groaned. _How the heck did he get himself knocked out?_ "A-ana?" Abel murmured as he came to.

* * *

The abbess had tracked Ana's aura to the bell tower where they found Abel's discarded but loaded firearm. AX has lost her airship and William's still on the operating table. Gunslinger got hit hard by a falling piece of flaming debris from the airship while rescuing William. The jolt knocked out something that would probably need William or Peter to fix. Young Faith had a sudden fit of wheezing and coughing back at the house. Fearing pneumonia, Eris had the young healer sent to hospital.

Thomas suggested splitting up to cover more ground, which leaves Abel, Thomas and him running about Rome at four a.m. in the morning.

"Asta's tovarisch could stop her from killing His Holiness and getting killed into the bargain. My tovarisch has to let the person we were turning Rome upside down looking for snatch his gun and get away…." Ion complained under his breath. Asta and tovarisch would be held in custody by Cardinal Niall for the time being. With luck, they would be released on the next flight out of Rome. Asta's high-flying diplomatic career might take a beating though.

The count sprinted along the Tiber's banks. He must keep track of time with dawn approaching… Something caught his eye.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Will they rescue Ana? Or will Ana get brainwashed and join the RCO? Will Asta and Rav get sent back to the Empire in disgrace?


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

Update on the Walshes and Carmen.

* * *

**Chapter 21**

_Londinium, Ghetto Hospital._

_Muscular atrophy. She'd need to learn how to work her limbs all over again,_ Cecil mused. _A pity, really._ He had the good fortune to make her acquaintance before the accident. _And boy did she sweep poor Peter off his feet then. _That family summer vacation in Barcelona seemed so long ago. He could still recall those lazy evenings spent watching the sun set over Barcelona while waiting for the night to start. He really enjoyed sunsets… and sunrises. His mother took him to the city square where they chanced upon a 'gypsy' busker who sang and danced like some fairy-tale creature, until Father Leon came a-charging to retrieve his runaway daughter.

"H-how's Father William?" Carmen's voice was weak and creaky as she tried to work her vocal chords. She fought to sit up. Cecil helped ease her into a sitting position.

"I've contacted Mother Eris. Sir William's still in the operating theatre. The airship's history, though. The abbess had a bit of problem with one of her wards coming down sick. Think the mite's name's Faith."

"W-will Father William be alright?" Carmen asked weakly. Cecil shrugged. "She'll call me once the operation's over. Oh, Peter sends his regards," Cecil allowed himself a smile. "He says he'll catch the first flight here as soon as the doctors let him leave the hospital." And Peter's not going anywhere until he fixes Gunslinger.

"T-tell him to…" Carmen stopped in mid-sentence. "Cecil, how do I look? Is there a mirror somewhere?"

"Here…" Cecil handed her a small mirror from a nearby nightstand and held it up in front of her. Carmen balked at her reflection. "Do you have any hair dye? And make-up? Any chance of some proper clothes? This is really going to need some getting used to…"

"You look pretty good for someone who has been playing Sleeping Beauty for nearly forty years. Never mind though, Peter's used to seeing you like this, hospital jammies, white hair and all…" Cecil reassured her. "Mother says she'll swing by with some stuff you might find useful, after she's done knocking sense into Uncle for offering to resign his post."

"It's that bad?" It was getting easier to speak now. Cecil shrugged. "Love's blind… but something about Uncle's lady love just doesn't quite add up. Excuse me…" Cecil answered his mobile phone. It was his mother and she was very, very upset.

"CECIL! This is an emergency! Your uncle has jumped town with that no-good, two-bit…I'm gonna…" Cecil blanched at Lady Vanessa's graphic description of the punishment she intended to mete out on the couple.

* * *

"Rav, what are you doing?" Astaroshe murmured. Her tovarisch was sitting astride the sill of a second-floor window. Cardinal Niall had been kind enough to accord her diplomatic immunity which saved her from being turned over to the Inquisition. The silver restraints on her wrists were a compromise for allowing them to spend their remaining time in Rome outside a prison cell. 

"Don't fret, tovarisch. I'm not after the Cardinal. I just need to settle some things with my family before we leave," the Terror of Minsk gave a winsome smile before dropping down from the window. Asta tried to run for the front door and promptly tripped.

_Damn the restraints!_ And the silver chain round the pillar Rav must have slipped on her ankle when she was distracted. Although a self-proclaimed atheist, the duchess found herself praying that whatever things the younger Methuselah referred to did not include blood and guts spilled in Rome's streets. Rav had a bit of a reputation and Astaroshe was certain their careers would definitely not survive whatever Rav has planned.

* * *

Ion cursed when he realized he had lost his communicator. He had only noticed its absence when he tried to call for backup. He hadn't the time to look for it. Not when Father Ivan was leading what appears to be Anastasia onto a rowboat at the dockside. A dark cloak covered her, the collar yanked up to her nose. It was only the flash of her flaming red hair that had attracted his eye. Apparently in a trance, she obediently stepped into the boat and lay down in the bottom. 

The count wondered if he could rescue Anastasia alone. Cautiously, he inched along the side of the dock, keeping to the shadows cast by the assorted crates. Father Ivan appeared to be taking his time. After depositing Ana in the rowboat, he sat on a coil of rope and lit a cigarette. Ion studied their surroundings. A short flight of stairs led to the water. Taking a deep breath, Ion took a gamble. He darted quickly from shadow to shadow, making a detour around the seemingly oblivious Ivan. It took what seemed like an eternity for him to reach the steps and a quick trot down to the water…

"Ana?" he whispered as he climbed into the boat. The apparently limp bundle suddenly sat up. Ion watched in horror as the red wig slipped off to reveal pale blond hair. Lorelei smiled at him sweetly. "Uncle Ivan, look what I caught." She grabbed his hand. She was smaller than he was but he recognized the danger in her serpentine smile.

"I thought you'd call in your AX friends. It'll be nice having AX in our bag but I guess you'll do," Ivan smirked as he stood at the head of the steps. Trapped between the pair, Ion growled and drew his short sword. Ivan only laughed mockingly as Lorelei started singing…

"_Come follow, follow, follow, follow…" _

Ion fought to block out the treacherously alluring melody. His limbs felt heavy. The sword fell out of his numbed hand and over the side of the boat with a dull splash. It became a struggle for him to focus on the imminent danger he was in. An eerie feeling of peace settled over him.

"_Come on, Ion!" Radu. Young and laughing, tossed him an oar. "Follow me. Quickly, before the grownups find out we're gone!" When they turn, they would never be able to savour the sunrise on the bay's clear blue waters. Hence this outing. _

_A rowboat. They were in a rowboat, casting off from the Byzantine wharf. Eagerly, Ion started paddling. _

_Sunrise beckoned. He loved watching the sunrise… How many hours had they spent away from Grandmother's eyes, watching the sun's rays paint the bay's waters gold? Radu was smiling, laughing… _

"_Come on, further, Ion! Come follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow me," Radu was singing, his angelic still-unbroken voice sweeping over the waters. _Radu always had a good singing voice, even when it broke on hitting puberty. It was a pity his voice lost its musical quality when he picked up that disgusting habit of smoking. The thought suddenly popped into Ion's mind like a wave of cold water. _Radu's dead. Dead. Dead…_

_No he isn't. He's standing there right with you in the boat… _He could see Radu, a boyish smile on his face, singing and paddling. They were going too slowly. Ion shook aside the feeling of unease and paddled. They were going to their favourite spot on the bay to watch the sunrise…

Slowly but surely, the siren song drove Ion onwards onto the open waters of the Tiber, straight into the path of the coming sunrise.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

If you have read the manga, you would get the bit about Ion and Radu going to see the sunrise. Looks like Abel's gonna lose his partner, again.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

An unlikely rescuer for Ion. And did Isaak and Di just walk out on the RCO?

* * *

**Chapter 22**

"What in the saints' names is he doing?" Having settled his affairs with his sculptor cousins, Ravenchild was on his way to seek safety from the approaching sun when he was greeted by the sight of the Count of Memphis floundering about in the muddy shallows of the Tiber. The sky in the east was starting to blush a rosy pink.

"If he wants to fry himself, it's no business of mine," the raven-haired Methuselah muttered. He turned to duck into the nearby catacombs…

An image of his willowy fair-haired mother popped into mind, half-deranged with grief, screaming for her lost son and floundering about in the marshes on the shores of the Black Sea. She had been caught by the sunrise before her husband and child could reach her.

"Could you live with yourself if you failed again?" Ravenchild gritted his teeth and dashed to the shore. Sunrise was only minutes away.

* * *

"Bad news, Eris. It appears Tres suffered devastating damage to his memory bank. That knock and fire must be a lot worst than we thought," Peter's voice crackled over the communicator. Eris groaned. They said it's darkest before the dawn but with dawn on the horizon, bad news kept pouring. 

The Iron Maiden's an unsalvageable wreck and they were reduced to using old-fashioned communicators. Young Faith's attack had subsided but the doctors wanted her under observation. Father William went into cardiac arrest on the operating table and had to be resuscitated, twice. The surgeon had warned her to be prepared for the worst. To top things off, Thomas and Abel had yet to find Ana.

"How bad is it?" Eris asked tersely. The silver lining was that Carmen had awoken from her coma. And Peter had recovered sufficiently to make his way back home and try repairing Tres, against his doctor's orders.

"He lost most of it. I don't know if it can be recovered. He has no memory of me, or you, or the others… However, he appears to recall the late Cardinal Caterina… He refuses to communicate with me further than inquiring about the Duchess' whereabouts. Er, when I let slip she's dead, he kind of shut down…" _At least he didn't turn violent or start firing his guns. _

"How's the Professor?"

"He's in intensive care. The surgeon suggested I get a priest for him." Eris massaged her temples. "Father Abel's on his way…" _If he did not get lost first._

"I'll leave Gunslinger in the workshop then," Peter sighed and flicked the communicator off. The android stared back at him through empty eyes, wires and other assorted components strewn over the worktable. The huge chunk of data has been erased or corrupted and only Carmen had any hope of recovering it from the scrambled mess. Tres was initially programmed to answer only to the late Duchess of Milan. _If he couldn't recall the Duchess ordering him to protect the abbess Eris… _

"Please tell me you aren't going to spend the next fifty years sitting there rusting…" Peter murmured. Tres stayed silent.

* * *

He was running away, away from his responsibilities, away from his family, away from his monarch and country. A few months back, he would have been horrified by the suggestion. Now, he felt strangely elated as the North Sea steamer headed towards Baltic. 

"Virgil," the love of his life drifted up to him. "I'm sorry you gave up everything for me," Scheherazade murmured sadly.

"I did so willingly, Scher," Virgil planted a light kiss on her dark hair. Scher smiled sadly. She recalled a story she had heard as a child so long ago. What was it called? It was an Arthurian tale from Albion and she wondered if Virgil was familiar with it.

"_Asta, come sit on my lap now," her father called out to his favourite niece. Astaroshe's father died when she was very young and she supposed her father thought he should stand in as her surrogate father. Golden-haired and outgoing, Asta was like the glowing moon. A plain girl like Scheherazade was soon outshined by her fairer companion. It was Asta who always occupied her father's lap during those story-telling sessions. He would let Scheherazade perch on the arm rest of his chair but he never gave her a pet name like he did for Astaroshe. _

_Yet, it was she who drank in those fireside tales. Astaroshe soon tired of such things, preferring other pursuits like riding or dancing. The Duke of Tigris simply stopped reading stories to his dark-haired daughter and gave Asta a pony. _

"Tell me, Virgil, what is it all women desire?" Scher asked.

"I honestly have no idea," Virgil replied after long and careful thought. "What do you desire, Scher?" Scher smiled. Obviously, Sir Virgil hadn't read of the Tale of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle…

"_What is it women desire above all else?" the dark knight asked. "The power over men," King Arthur replied, for that was the answer given by the hag to his nephew, Sir Gawain… _

"I have everything I desire… here," Scher lied and took Virgil by the hand. "You'll love my family's dacha, overlooking the river…" The dacha had served as a prison for her mother when madness robbed her of her reason. "Come inside, the sun's rising soon."

* * *

"Isaak, where are we?" Dietrich mumbled. The bed he was in was unfamiliar, the room too spartan to be Isaak's. 

"In an abandoned shack somewhere in the Empire," Isaak replied wearily. It had been a lot harder than he had expected saving Dietrich. It had taken almost twice the effort he required to patch Mein Herr. Yet it was only a stopgap measure. Dietrich's heart and lungs were damaged and rotting even as they speak. Unable to heal on his own, the Terran would die. There was one last resort. Highly dangerous, but it offered a sliver of hope.

"Dietrich von Lohengrin, how would you like being turned into a vampire?"

"WHAT?!" Dietrich fell off the narrow cot.

* * *

Ion blissfully watched as Radu continued singing, the boyish treble of his voice almost sounding like a hymn to the rising sun. The rays tinted the sky rose pink… Radu stopped his singing and turned towards him. 

"Ion, why did you kill me?" Radu glared at him through hate-filled blue eyes.

"Radu? What are you talking about?" Ion gasped in horror. Radu appeared no longer as a young boy, but as he did in Cartago moments before the fire claimed him.

"You let them kill me…" Radu hissed. The sun was rising. "Die, Ion… I hate you! Burn in hell!" The small boat burst into flames. _He was burning!_ Ion swatted at the blue flames licking hungrily at his clothes.

"Radu!" His tovarisch was gone. Ion flailed about in panic. It hurt.

"_Forgive me, my friend…"_ Radu's voice drifted to him out of the blinding pain. _Radu would never do this to him!_ _It must be the Rosenkruez… _

"SNAP OUT OF IT!" Firm hands seized him by the shoulders and shook him like a rag-doll. The mirage of blue flames faded away, but the burning pain remained. To his horror, he saw the sun peeking over the eastern horizon. He was stuck in gooey mud up to his thighs. Frantically, he struggled to free himself.

"Stop it, you'll sink in further," the hooded figure bent over him reprimanded. Ion noticed through his pain that his rescuer's hands were blistering where the sun's rays hit them. _A Methuselah._ There was no way Ion could be freed and hauled onto the makeshift raft Rav had poled out on the rising tide. With an angry curse, his rescuer plunged his hands into the shallow layer of water above the sucking mud.

"Father in Heaven, aid me here." For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Rav put all his strength into unleashing that unique talent that was long thought lost to the Fortuna clan.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I took some literary liberty with the Arthurian legend of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle by rephrasing the answer to the dark knight's riddle. The more accurate answer is free will or the power to make one's own decisions. Should I let Isaak turn Di into an artifical vampire? Ion just can't get over losing Radu, can he?

Rav's power is over the element of water, you probably guessed this by now. He can control water, freeze it if need be. Wouldn't it be interested if Ion inherited this power as well?


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 23**

"Your Imperial Highness, I apologize for my grave mistake…" Astaroshe knelt before the hologram of the Empress. "The Count of Minsk has not yet returned… As for last night's… incident, I am willing to bear any punishment…" The assassination attempt was like a hazy dream to her. _Had she been hallucinating? Was the strain of watching over her reckless tovarisch getting to her? _Seth sighed. Maybe she should have ordered Ravenchild to return with her to the Empire after their fruitless attempt to burgle the Vatican Secret Archives. First, she must see to the well-being of her dear daughter, whose nerves have been sorely rattled by all that has happened.

"Astaroshe Asran, you will catch the next available night flight back to Byzantium. Upon reaching the city, you will report to me for re-assignment of duties," Seth ordered in her Empress voice. Astaroshe bowed so low that her forehead touched the carpet. "Arise and rest, my daughter. We will speak of this later. As for Minsk, he will answer for his actions if required."

Ravenchild. Raised by Terrans, never officially schooled in the ways of Imperial nobility. That child was proving to be both invaluable help and massive headache.

"It wasn't his fault, really… It's just that many of the nobles scorn him for his unconventional upbringing…" Asta spoke instinctively in her tovarisch's defence. Seth resisted an urge to giggle. Asta had taken an unconventional route herself by openly entering the Secret Service as an Imperial Inspector, a position tradition reserved for males. "If you are referring to the unkind words of Belarus, you should know the Duke is envious Ravenchild has managed to retrieve land he has deemed long lost to the Outside."

"That lecherous old goat could have got it back three times over if he weren't so busy chasing little boys, Methuselah or otherwise, for the last three hundred years…" Another hologram appeared. This one was a tall thirty-ish man with ash-blond hair and blue eyes. "I say, where's the little imp? I've unearthed some interesting stuff in while excavating the Minsk cathedral ruins." He was the Baron of Karnak, Rahid Barvon, and Ravenchild's one-time tovarisch. Asta was surprised to see that he was a far cry from the broken man the court gossips spoke of.

"Your Grace," he gave a bow to acknowledge the presence of the Empress. "May I interest you in some wooden dolls?" He produced a wooden Russian nesting doll from his khaki jacket. "They're all the rage for sweet little girls up north." Asta gasped at his cavalier tone. _An insolent one, no wonder Rav had seen fit to whip him to ribbons. _To Asta's surprise, the Empress laughed and asked for a set to be sent to her palace. Rahid Barvon, alias Konstantin Wolfmeister, was another unconventional child who spent most of his childhood and a good many years as an adult thinking he was Terran.

* * *

"Grip on tight." Fighting to keep conscious, Ion grabbed hold of the flimsy raft his rescuer knelt on. The burning was terrible. Rav gritted his teeth and fought to focus. Ion felt the mud's vice-like grip on his legs loosen. No, the river water was surging. The inexplicable change in the current swept them under a large bridge and out of the burning rays.

"You are an idiot." Ion felt someone drag him onto the raft before he passed out from his burns. Rav gasped with exhaustion and lowered his hood. It was only thanks to his heavy cloak that he has been spared the severe burns Ion has suffered. He looked at his burnt hands. The skin was starting to heal but the pain was still considerable. Fortunately, this bridge had an entrance to the catacombs under it. If only he could figure a way to get his unconscious companion into the tunnel.

"Chief Rav? Out late aren't you?" A small Terran boy peeked out from the catacomb entrance. _Thank the Lord for small mercies and the explorer tendencies of Cousin Gil's grandson._ Rav gave an unspoken prayer of thanks. "Be a good lad and get your father, we need some help here. Please also tell your mother to prepare a bed and some bandages."

* * *

"Isaak, you aren't going to use me for your lab rat…" Dietrich spat and fought against his restraints. The bed frame creaked and groaned with his effort. "If you keep moving about like that, don't expect me to free you," Isaak muttered. Dietrich's reaction was a lot more violent than he had anticipated. He needed some fresh Methuselah vital organs that matched Dietrich's blood type, a good supply of blood both for transfusion and feeding purposes and some cooperation from his patient. The complex operation has been attempted before but only succeeded once. And that patient had turned out to be an unawakened Methuselah. True, there were other more reliable methods of turning a Terran into a Methuselah, but none would help Dietrich's current state.

He lit a cigarillo and looked up from the medical book he had been reading. Dietrich, worn out, had gone limp and quiet. Dark blood oozed when the monofibres had sliced into his wrists and ankles. Only the slow rise and fall of his bandaged chest hinted at life. Isaak hadn't been back to this cottage since Aunt Bella died. That sadistic old bitch's presence still hung heavy in this hated cottage on the shores of the great lake that separated Belarus from Terran Poland. Every thing here reminded him of the numerous indignities his late guardian had heaped on him during his growing years. Of course, this would be the last place the Pilot would think of looking for him.

The place was falling apart, but still habitable. The thick forest hid the building from the lake. There was a ruined city about ten miles away, a number of gypsy caravans hanging about the marshy shore and several empty-looking dachas on the hills. The Terran caravans should provide an adequate and safe blood source. No one really cared if a few gypsies disappeared. The organs were trickier. Active bacilli might attack Dietrich's already weakened body. Organs from an unawakened Methuselah might tip the scales a little in his patient's favour.

This required careful thought on his part. He had seen the Duke of Belarus' crest on one of the dachas when he was a child. Aunt Bella chased him out into the wintertime forest in his nightshirt. He spent a night and a day floundering about the forest before the Pilot found him. A rumour was going about the Methuselah nobility about the old Duke's latest 'pet', an unawakened young man. He would need to wait for nightfall to make his move.

* * *

"Ion Fortuna, you so owe me one," Ravenchild murmured and drove his dagger harmlessly into the straw pallet inches from Ion's head. Ion slept on as his body recuperated. Hearing footsteps, Ravenchild hurriedly sheathed his dagger. Thomas O'Cleary burst into the cellar. "How's he?"

"Alive," Rav replied tartly. Father Abel Nightroad followed the trainee priest to Ion's bedside. "ION! Speak to me! Please wake up! How can I face my sister if you get killed?" He seized Ion's shoulders and shook him.

"OW! Abel, I'm awake! I'm awake!" Ion's eyes snapped open just as Father Abel's eyes suddenly went blank. The priest crashed to the floor with a bump on his head where Ravenchild had whacked him with his dagger hilt. "Er, Minsk, thanks for rescuing me," Ion muttered grudgingly.

"If you really want to thank me, duel with me once you're better. I'll see you in Minsk," Ravenchild threw Ion a rolled-up map before leaving the cellar. He had received his orders from the Empress relayed by Asta through his Terran cousin. Both Asta and he would most likely have their duties suspended for a time. While he did not know what plans Asta has on returning to the Empire, he was looking forward to finally getting about to re-building the city he had captured in battle so many years ago. _He'd show that pompous jackass duke._ He allowed himself a grin at the thought of turning the city into a shining pearl of the region.

His heavy dark cloak and a pair of work gloves should shield him sufficiently from the sun. If not, there was always Cousin Gil's covered cart.

"Sorry, Ion… we couldn't find hide or hair of Ana. It's like she vanished into thin air…" Thomas apologized. Abel mumbled unintelligibly. "I think Father Old-timer here hasn't a clue where she went too."

* * *

Anastasia Flamevogel had remained unconscious throughout the hasty flight from Rome. Finally finding a roadside inn willing to accommodate Methuselahs, they left her on the couch. Worn out by her earlier exertions, Lorelei slumbered peacefully on the double bed. Ivan watched in fascination as the Pilot studied the Star's recorded data. Holographic images flashed and twirled in the air above the table.

"I'm a fool, an imbecile… For years, I have been looking in the wrong place… we have all been looking in the wrong place…" Fritzroy von Mansfield muttered agitatedly. "I let that woman lead me on, even in death… It never made it that far… So close, my boy… So close! We should have guessed!" He stabbed a finger at the map. Ivan gasped when he saw where he was pointing.

Fritzroy coughed violently and sank to his knees. He was too old, much too old to go on. "Father?" Ivan asked and helped him up.

"Ivan. I want you to take the Star and Anastasia there. Find a place to hide. I will return with Siren to Mein Herr," Fritzroy von Mansfield set his jaw determinedly. "We must act quickly."

"Father, you do realize that if he finds out about your true plan, he'll kill you," Ivan protested. "Come with us."

"_In media vitae sumus in morte._ I'm an old man, boy. Too old… I will stall him for as long as possible, but you and the little one must work fast. After so many years, I will finally join my beloved and detested sister…" Fritzroy stroked his whiskers thoughtfully.

"Will she work with me?" Ivan asked. He paced nervously. Isaak's disappearance was enough cause for concern. News of Scher's unexpected elopement had shaken the Orden to its core. She had the nerve to request they send sweet little Lorelei to her. Fortunately for her, the person who received the telegram had the common sense not to rely the message to Mein Herr but to the Pilot instead. Fritzroy confronted the Countess of Samaria via telephone and finally succeeded in talking her out of taking Lorelei, if not returning to Albion to wreck more havoc. It was expected that given the current state of Westminster-Ghetto politics, the Ghetto would collapse without Sir Virgil at the helm, paving the way for radical factions. Besides, with their latest discovery, that island nation was of little concern to them. The change they would bring about would reshape everything.

"That will be for you to find out." Fritzroy shrugged. As long as Anastasia remained out cold, they have no way of assessing the success of the Pilot's hypnosis. "She will recover her memories eventually, so time is of the essence."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Yeah, things are moving along. Looks like Dietrich is going to be Isaak's test subject, willing or otherwise.

Geography of the Trinity Blood world is similar in some aspects to real life. However, I have introduced slight variations for the purpose of this fic. I know there is no Great Minsk Lake and present day Minsk is not a ghost town. I have no idea how the Empire gives out their titles. Luxor and Memphis are in present day Egypt, while Odessa and Kiev are in Ukraine. Tigris is a river running through Iraq and Ancient Samaria is in modern Israel. Minsk is a city in modern Belarus, while probably explains why the duke is so hard on Rav. Karnak is the name of a temple compound in Thebes, Egypt. Rav's former tovarisch ranks very low on the nobility ladder for some reasons I may delve into at a later date.

_In media vitae sumus in morte _means 'in the midst of life we are in death' in Latin.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Chapter 24**

_A week later…_

Cain yawned and flipped through the report. His trusted lieutenants were defecting. Isaak had failed to return as promised. The Countess was seen leaving Albion on a North Sea ferry with her beau. He would leave them for now. _The Flamevogels…_ he could not afford to ignore the threat. Fritzroy had been poking about in Jerusalem, Sinai and Arafat for many years. No, Vladimir Flamevogel, the young boy who first discovered him in that disintegrated state he was reduced to by Seth. He had been almost unrecognizable when they next met. He had been forced to leave his family for some crime he committed and von Mansfield was the name he had taken on, one of many.

"_What do you have there, Vlad?" A woman's voice, quiet but commanding, much like that hated bitch's one. _

"_I dunno, Aunt Tasha. I found it in the attic. It is alive, isn't it?" the boy shook the capsule he was contained in. He couldn't recall how he came to be in there. "What's it? It's humming." He couldn't see or hear, but the nanomachines could still sense their surroundings in their nearly powerless state._

"_Let me have a look…" Bella murmured and took the capsule from Vladimir. 'It is probably pre-Armageddon…You Flamevogels sure collect lots of curios…" _

The Pilot and the late Bella had started the Orden, but it was Isaak who finally figured out a way to keep his form for more than a few hours. Initially, Fritzroy had been very interested in Cain's well-being, perhaps too interested. Cain wondered why he had not caught on when Fritzroy brought in the children, Ivan and Dimitri, both Flamevogels with their ice-blue eyes. Then he started on his wanderings. Isaak received instructions from him on rare occasions. One of those occasions ended with them recruiting a Terran brat from a shady establishment in Berlin.

Afterwards, he and Isaak were sorely distracted by the talented but irritating brat. _How could smart vampires end up killing each other over a cheap tease like him? _That was how Dietrich got his first AutoJaggers to play with. The boy was a skilled manipulator, but no match for Cain once the Crusnik set his mind to killing him off. _Then the Pilot decided to bring him back for Isaak's amusement… _Thank goodness they didn't recruit that little Terran witch-girl Isaak was briefly interested in.

"Mein Herr, the Pilot is back," a minion reported.

"Send him in." He had been using the Orden all this time, and the Orden have been using him in turn._ Time to end it… Goodbye, Vladimir alias Fritzroy, it has been nice knowing you…_

"Mein Herr, what is the meaning of this?" To his credit, his prey did not flinch when he walked in to the Crusnik's activated form. "You know full well, Pilot…" Cain hissed.

"Ah, yes. I've gambled but it's not over. You and your siblings should never have existed in the first place," Fritzroy smiled despite the immense pain as Cain ripped open his chest. The light went out of his eyes. Lorelei watched impassively from the doorway as the lifeless body dropping onto the carpet.

"Call Uncle Ivan, my angel," he called out softly to the Siren. Lorelei shook her head. "Uncle Ivan didn't come with us. He took Anastasia somewhere else…" she replied and hugged her doll closer to her. "I pretended to be asleep but I heard them talking… They were going to Minsk…" The blond girl stopped as Cain's bloodstained hand fell onto the carpet.

"Leave me. And get the servants to remove this…" Cain spat and kicked the corpse. He immediately regretted it when his leg broke off at the knee. Without Isaak's help, it would take more time for the nanomachines to pull his body together. Lorelei picked up his leg and hand. Cain Knightlord growled. It irked him that he should be at such a disadvantage simply because of Isaak's absence. "Lord Cain, maybe that smelly scientist from Alexandria could help," Lorelei ventured.

"Then go get him!" That doddering occult-dabbling coot better be able to fix his body. The girl let out a squeak of alarm at the change in Cain's mood and fled.

* * *

_Rome Hospital_

"I saw a bright light and Kate… She yells at me: 'Are you going to leave Tres to rust?' So I woke up. I'll take a look at Tres as soon as they discharge me," William murmured weakly from his hospital bed. "How're Carmen and Peter?"

Eris smiled. "Peter's gone to Albion to be with Carmen. Carmen is undergoing a course of physiotherapy…" At her side, Thomas was playing a card game with little Faith. The little girl's ill health had resulted in her continued hospitalization.

"We got three sisters from St Mary's to help with the lessons…" Abel and Ion have left Rome to continue their search for Ana. _But William need not know of Ana's disappearance yet, at least until he recovered fully._

"Where's Abel?" William asked. Thomas liked up from his game with Faith. "The old man and the count set off for the Empire. They think Ana may have been taken there… OW!" He yelped in pain as Faith kicked him under the table. Eris sighed. _So much for keeping it from Father William.

* * *

_

_A dacha near Minsk_

The pair were too engrossed to sense Isaak's intrusion into the opulently furnished bedroom. Finally, the elderly duke looked up from the bed. "Who's there?" Those were the last words before his head was sliced off by Isaak. The terrified youth did not stand a chance.

Having subdued the youth, he drew a vial of blood. Tests would have to be carried out to determine his suitability as a donor. Isaak fished out the portable lab kit he had managed to procure. He had never worked in such technologically-lacking surroundings. It would take an hour to get the results. Making sure the youth was suitably restrained, Isaak leaned back and waited.

The dacha was empty. Careful observation over the past week revealed that the place had no servants during the duke's vacation with his paramour. The duke liked his privacy. The place was opulent compared to the cottage.

Isaak hoped it would be a match and he could proceed with the operation Dietrich so desperately needed.

* * *

_Ghetto, Albion_

Vanessa Walsh smiled at the sight of Peter and Carmen bickering as they walked slowly along the underground gardens of the Ghetto hospital. "Mother," Cecil joined her. "Peter will be staying here for a while, to keep Carmen company. Will it be alright if I offer him lodging at our place?"

"I just did, Cecil," Vanessa replied. "However, it appears Sister Anais beat us to that. Oh, Cecil, do fess up to your mother. Do you have a special someone?" Vanessa added and winked at her son. "Mother!" Cecil exclaimed and turned beetroot red. Vanessa laughed. "It's alright, Cecil. So long as you remember your responsibilities..." _Unlike Virgil…_

"Well, I didn't mean to keep it secret… but it is kind of sensitive. And a bit too soon… She's much older than me and she's not from the Ghetto…" Cecil fidgeted. "She holds a high rank in the Empire… Actually, we are still wondering if it can work out. You see, her family's matriarchal… If we do marry, I may have to move in with her family in Byzantium."

"Well, there is always the airship," Vanessa replied.

"Will we have elections here someday, Mother? Our people's faith in us has been shaken by uncle's elopement. Some people have been sending petitions to the Crown." Above, Westminster would soon be in session. The new king of Albion would be presiding. They would have to attend as the current representatives of the Ghetto in Virgil's absence, _for now._

"Probably," Vanessa sighed. As her illegitimate child, Cecil was not legally able to inherit the title, despite all his achievements. It was unlikely he would be conferred anything more than a knight of Albion. "Cecil, you're my dearest son but you will grow up and follow your own path someday. Have they found the Princess yet?" Vanessa deftly changed the topic. To her disappointment, Cecil shook his head.

They need not have worried.

* * *

Somewhere in Normandy, a man and a girl, seemingly father and daughter, boarded a North Sea ferry. The girl was pale and listless, a result of a long illness, her ever-smiling father explained to fellow passengers. Ivan carried Ana easily and she clung to him like a small child would a parent. A scarf was tied around her red hair.

"Father, where're we going?" Ana murmured sleepily. She thought it strange she had little memories of her childhood. She seemed to recall an uncle and a grandmother, but it was hazy to her.

"Home, Annamarie. Home," Ivan whispered into her ear. The Star was secured in a sturdy steel box. There was no guarantee Ana would be able to use its powers in her current state. Still, they had to risk it.

:"Where's home? Albion?" Ana murmured, giving him a start. Did she recall her past? "Have we been to Albion?"

"No, my sweet. Home's in… Minsk…" Ivan lied. He had not been there since the last summer vacation he and his twin spent at their dacha with their mother. He had stopped thinking of the Empire as his home a long time ago. "There is a large lake and the dacha is right on the shore…" He hoped the dacha was still there after fifty years. It would probably be, given the Empire's reluctance to tear down residences held by the nobility on the off-chance an heir may emerge someday to claim it.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

The end? An epilogue to tie up any loose ends? What do you think? Should there be a sequel? Any characters or stuff you wish to see in a sequel? Like maybe Isaak and Dietrich getting down n' dirty?


	25. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Trinity Blood or its characters. They are the creation of Yoshida Sunao. I do, however, own my own characters.

* * *

**Epilogue**

Ion curled up as the train thundered on through the German countryside. He yelped as a goat butted him. The minor inconveniences of travelling in the goods car, thanks to their limited finances, were starting to get to him. A hen fluttered into Abel's face. "Get it off! Get it off!" the priest screeched frantically. The annoyed hen flapped and squawked. Ion muttered a small curse in Imperial and batted the hen aside and stuffed it back into its basket.

"Abel, are you sure we're on the right track?" It was like a slap in the face, losing Ana the way they did. And Ion hated that.

Abel cleaned his glasses and spat out a few stray feathers. "It's the only lead we've got. A father in Bohemia recognized Ana from the posters Cardinal Niall helped send out. She was with a man who fits Ivan's description and hopping on a train for Byzantinum." Then again, Father Karl's poor eyesight and fanciful imagination were legendary. Still, the Vatican had no other leads for them to follow. Seth might be able to help…

* * *

"Her August Majesty, Augusta Vradica. All rise!" Baybars' voice bellowed. There was a wave of activity as her children rose to greet her entrance, all except Mirka who was confined to her wheelchair. Seth acknowledged their greeting. "Please take your seats," her electronically-altered voice boomed out. The Crusnik let her eyes roam over the assembly. Here a young countess was too overdressed. There a baron's attention was on the ample bosom of the viscomtess next to him.

Astaroshe was present but she was uncharacteristically subdued. She had not recovered from her experience in Rome. Seth noted that Mirka was motioning to the nurse next to her for more painkillers. It must have been sheer willpower that brought her to the assembly. There were a number of empty places. The Duke of Belarus hardly ever attended an assembly if he could worm his way out of it. Someone had taken advantage of his absence to express his sentiments towards the duke by placing a broom on his seat.

In the Barvon's section, the Baron of Karnak had never attended any assembly since his so-called nervous breakdown. His distant aunt placed her tea hamper on his seat, clearly expecting a long drawn session. Minsk's seat was in the obscure corner of the hall, half-hidden in the shadows. It was empty.

"Where is Ravenchild?" she asked. The count was expected to give his testimony as a key witness to the incident. Ion was nowhere in sight and it was Ravenchild's statement that might decide the fate of Astaroshe's diplomatic career.

"Sorry I'm late!" The great doors burst open and the raven-haired count strode in. At his side was a large white wolf. Unlike most nobles who brought along a servant to wait on their needs during the long court sessions, Ravenchild brought a semi-wild wolf instead.

"Ravenchild, please come forward and relate the events as witnessed by you on the night of…" the inquest was on.

The whole incident stank of her brother's Orden. Seth knew it. Without concrete proof, Asta was doomed to take the fall for it, despite Ravenchild's repeated assurances that his tovarisch had acted out of character and was in an apparent daze. After a painful three hours of examination and cross-examination, it was time for the Empress to announce a course of action that would satisfy both the Empire and the sentiments Outside.

"As Duchess of Moldova," Mirka ventured. "May I humbly suggest that both Lady Asran and her tovarisch be suspended from active duty until further notice? In addition, it is obvious that that… that half-bred count…" Seth winced. She should have seen this coming. Mirka would gladly use this as an opportunity to remove what she has long perceived as a potential threat to her grandson Ion. Ravenchild snarled, but stayed rooted to his seat. The wolf, as if sensing his companion's rage, licked his hand.

"That is enough, Mirka! Your concerns will be addressed," Seth cut in. If Ravenchild was provoked into attacking her, Mirka could ensure his ruin in the imperial nobility. Not even the nobles would tolerate an attack on a defenceless, crippled old lady.

"As I was saying, Minsk is a bad influence on all. He has acted on many occasions outside proper channels and protocol, as we are all well-aware of. He should not be allowed to…" Mirka continued her goading. "Mirka! That is quite enough!" Seth snapped. There was a flash of movement in the direction of Minsk's seat. It was followed by a fit of giggling.

"Kons! Quit it! It tickles!" The white wolf had bounded onto the slight-build count and was covering his face with slobbery licks of its tongue. The wolf's tail wagged enthusiastically. Whatever pent-up anger set to explode was harmlessly defused in a fit of giggling. There was a murmur of disapproval from some of the nobles at this, but wiser heads only smiled and nodded, recognizing that a potentially explosive confrontation had been headed off. Seth pounced on her chance and continued delivering her decision.

"Duchess of Kiev, Astaroshe Asran, your health of is of utmost importance to us. In light of this, you will be relieved of your duties for the time being. Please rest and regain your strength. The duties of ambassador at large will be covered by the deputy ambassador, Viscount Nikol of Albania." A murmur of approval ran through her children. The young Viscount was a promising young man who had carried out numerous successful diplomatic and trade missions before.

"Thank you, Empress…" Asta's relief was obvious to all as she bowed before the Empress.

"As for Ravenchild, Count of Minsk, you are advised to return to Minsk and get down to rebuilding it, at once." Sending Ravenchild off to Minsk would allow him a chance to cool down. Whatever words Rav may have had were drowned out by squeals and excited yelps as the wolf and Methuselah wrestled on the broad bench that formed their seat.

"Mirka, you should return to your mansion and rest," Seth added. Mirka looked awfully pale. Seth wondered if the painkillers were losing their effect. "Court is dismissed. Thank you for your time, my children."

* * *

_Later, Asran mansion_

"Cecil, I'm finished," Asta sobbed over the phone. "Asta, don't say that. It's a temporary setback," Cecil reassured her. "Look, why don't I go over…"

"Cecil! Whatever will your mother say?" News of Virgil's elopement with a mysterious woman had reached the Empire. Cecil laughed. "Don't you worry, Asta. I told mother about us…"

"You what! Isn't it a bit too soon?"

"Not really. Just treat it as a vacation or something… I'll get on the next flight and-"

"Not now, Cecil," Asta protested with a smile. Talking to Cecil always improved her mood. Her tigress kitten, Bathsheba, a direct descendant of her Venus, purred and butted her knee as she lay back on the cushions. For the first time since losing her fiancé Reniya, Astaroshe was feeling sure of a relationship. It has been a very long time indeed. She brushed her fingertips fondly against the faded photo of her and Reniya that sat on her table.

* * *

"Father, it is beautiful!" Ana called out and ran towards the dacha's balcony. The waters of the lake it overlooked were a clear blue. Ivan laughed and unpacked his bag. The place was a bit musty but a bit of airing would sort that out. Ana spun around, giggling, the sunlight glinted off her flame-like hair. She looked so much like her late mother. Her smiling eyes were ice-blue, like her father's. She stopped to look at a portrait of a brown-haired woman. "Who's that?"

"It's your grandmother," Ivan replied. "Grandma doesn't look like that…" Ana frowned. A hazy image of a frail, white-haired woman came to her mind. The portrait did not resemble her idea of grandmother one bit. The woman in the portrait had a cruel-looking smile on her lips as she clutched two distracted-looking young boys to her side. Ana walked away and saw the Star peeking out from the suitcase Ivan was unpacking.

Instinctively, she reached for it… It seemed to be humming. "Don't touch that!" Ivan shouted. Alarmed, she drew her hand back. "It's dangerous!" Quickly, Ivan took the Star and slipped it into his pocket. That was close. As long as his niece failed to regain her memories, he could keep up his charade. He looked out over the lake. Somewhere out there was the only thing that could destroy the nanomachines that sustained the life of a Crusnik.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

A little bit of tying up loose ends. Rav has effectively been exiled for the time being. Everyone's heading for Minsk.


End file.
